Hit Me With Your Best Shot
by Chaosia Guadimus
Summary: When a family member of one of the Original Nine moves back to Charming, the Sons have to figure out how she fits into their world. Especially since she's the new coroner for Lodi and Charming . . .
1. Chapter 1

_Okay . . . so i am officially like the worst walking case for ADD out there. I now have over seven unfinished stories-all still very much in progress and very much in my brain as I am constantly writing and fighting blocks-but what do i do? Start a whole new story for a whole other genre that I have never written in before. So, that being said feedback is welcomed reviews are awesome and i am a goober . . . Yeah. On with the show people . . ._

**I own nothing but my OCs and a very stubborn 69 Chevelle who eats me out of house and home in gas.**

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* * *

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**Complicated**

Ripley Shaw had never really doubted her place within Charming. From the time she'd moved here as a small child with her mother and stepfather, she'd always been pretty sure of exactly where she stood. Especially with her Pops being a member of the local Sons of Anarchy charter. Needless to say, even now with no one but her and her estranged brothers, she was always surrounded by plenty of family and friends . . . All more than willing to protect her tooth and nail if need be.

Hell, she'd practically been raised with Jax and Opie before and after her Pops had passed-just a few meager months after her mother. When she'd left for school, they'd all seen her off, most coming to Berkley to see her whenever they had the time to do so. And now, after nearly seven years of school and graduate studies, she was back in Charming. Working in and around the area as a pathologist. Gemma had no qualms of letting everyone know she was welcomed anywhere SAMCRO was, Clay following along with his wife after she'd helped them cover up some minor DNA evidence for Tig and Opie almost seven months before. So it wasn't like her coming through the doors of T&M Automotive should've caused as big of an uproar as it did-seeing as she'd _only_ been doing it since she'd moved back to town. How in the hell was she supposed to know that these idiots from Long Beach were here?

She quickly learned, however, as soon as she set foot in the garage portion of T&M. She'd just left work so her hair was still falling around her face in big, loose golden curls and her make-up was still done overly natural and glowing while her lips were a glossy nude pink. She hadn't had time to change out of her work clothes, so she still had on the navy herringbone men's styled trousers and bone white fitted tuxedo shirt with the burgundy and navy striped silk vest . . . as well as the pebble gray fitted blazer and alligator stiletto heels. She'd come here like this before and had never encountered anything other than the Prospect's extreme blush and Bobby's watchful eye on Tig and Chibs.

But today the whole place practically exploded when one of the guys with this other crew decided to try and play Casanova. Said guy, who introduced himself as Tumbler, had saddled up to her and started chatting away. Which would've been fine if Clay hadn't decided to look over at the exact moment he bent to whisper into her ear. And when he saw what was going on and tensed, Tig turned to see what was wrong.

Needless to say said guy was now sporting a rather nasty black eye and busted nose-probably his whole face- and Tig was standing in Clay's office with her, holding ice to his already swelling hand while the others finished their business tensely and quickly.

She glared at Tig as he paced, shaking her curls out of her face.

"What the hell was that about? Some macho display of manliness or something?"

Tig turned, glaring at her as he came to stand almost toe-to-toe with her. She knew what he was for SAMCRO, for Clay and Gemma. But right now she didn't really care.

"Just a friendly scuffle, Doll. Why? What do you want it to have been about?"

She rolled her eyes, falling almost bonelessly into Clay's chair. She shrugged out of her blazer, tossing it to the side and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to ward off the headache building. What in the world had possessed the man to do something so damn irrational? And what had kept Clay from stopping him? Dear lord, now she knew why her mother was almost always irritated with Clay and her Pops. The men in this club just didn't seem to damn think.

She sighed, slumping further into her seat and closed her eyes. Maybe if she slept long enough she could convince herself that this was all a really bad dream.

She heard Tig move and felt the heat emitted from Clay's ancient desk lamp being blocked as he settled himself on the surface before her. She sighed again, refusing to even crack an eye to look at the Sgt. at Arms. She'd already seen far too much of him lately as it was.

Tig was older than her by a good many years –more than she ever wanted to acknowledge aloud- but that didn't stop him from being brutally attractive. Especially with those bright baby blue eyes. Add that with his medium complexion, decent build and dark brown-black curls and you had yourself a very nice looking biker. It was the man's tastes sexually that kept her from ever seeing him as more than just an odd friend that was occasionally nice to look at and daydream about. She'd heard the stories and had to help brush some of his . . . _**tastes**_ under the rug. Poor Opie had just been unfortunate enough to get sliced during cleanup and bleed a bit. But Tig had actually left the full deposit with the poor girl they were trying to _not_ have linked back to the MC. The only thing she could say about it was that even dead the girl had been gorgeous . . . so at least he seemed to have tastes other than the normal Croweaters.

She slumped even deeper in the chair. Who was she trying to kid? Tig would fuck anything with a pulse . . . and some things without one if his ramblings were to be believed . . . but he usually didn't even act like she was remotely female. Which is probably why his sudden attention put her so much on fucking edge. This was new territory . . . What game was he trying to play?

"What'd he say to you, Rip?"

Clay's voice brought her out of her thoughts, forcing her to open her eyes. She hadn't even heard him come in she'd been so intent on ignoring the way Tig was looking at her. She almost died however when she saw that not only was Clay almost nose to nose with her but Tig had moved and was wearing an even darker look on his face as he waited for her answer. Dear God . . . they were trying to give her a heart attack. She swallowed nervously, sitting a bit straighter before regaining her composer and turning to look only at Clay. She had no clue what the SAA's deal was but she refused to be rattled by it. The guy might've fucked a corpse before but she dealt with the dead on a daily basis. And he was_** not**_ going to rattle her when that didn't.

No way in _**Hell.**_

"What does it matter, Clay? He's just some stupid kid from out of town trying to pick up some strange. Nothing I haven't ever seen done before . . . especially around here."

He glared, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her while Tig turned and practically stormed from the office. Clay sighed, reaching over to shut the door as the sounds of Tig's rampage drifted further from the garage and closer to the club house. Apparently that hadn't gone over too well.

"_**You **_are not a Croweater, Ripley. And definitely not a piece of action for some freaking boost out of Long Beach to add as a notch on his bedpost . . . You're old man was one of the Original Nine. And I made a promise to him and your mom that SAMCRO would be responsible for you. You're family, Rip. **Blood**. We just don't want to see you get hurt."

She sighed, shoulders slumping as she nodded to him. Clay knelt in front of her, holding her hands in his own as he spoke to her. It was so hard to remember, when he was being like this, that this man had probably killed more people than her Pops ever dreamed of. And despite everything she'd learned in school and in Berkley during her residency she couldn't fault him a damn bit. He never acted rashly and he kept them all safe. So she was more than willing to overlook the blood staining the hands that held hers.

"He honestly just asked me my name and what I was doing there, Clay. He didn't even get into his pick up line before Tig went apeshit on him . . . What was that about anyway? I mean, pushing him back or warning him off I can get. But full on Tig rage beatdown? Isn't that a little overkill?"

Clay sighed, shaking his head.

"I got no clue sweetheart. Tig is Tig and sometimes I don't even think he knows exactly what the hell he's doing. Just . . . know he's protective of you because of how much Gemma adores you. And you helped us with him earlier this year. You're SAMCRO all the way to that man. He's gonna be zealous in defending you."

Ripley nodded, slowly taking her hands from his as she stood and grabbed her blazer.

"Then I'll apologize for the good of the club and go on home. I was really just coming to aggravate Gemma anyway."

And with that, she grabbed her bag and turned, leaving the office quickly as she made her way towards the one place she really didn't want to be.

The clubhouse holding one _**very**_ pissed off SAA.

* * *

Clay sighed, sinking into the seat Ripley'd vacated as Bobby and Piney walked in. He waved them in, rubbing his forehead as Bobby sat in the other chair.

"What the fuck was that?"

Clay looked to Piney, obviously not amused as he chuckled at Bobby's question. This was not a joking matter . . . this was serious. If he was reading this shit right Tig was about to open up a whole new can of shit for their charter. And he didn't know a damn way to stop him without alienating his right hand.

Piney smirked, nudging Bobby as he looked to Clay.

"How long till he comes out and asks her to be his Old Lady?"

Bobby paled, turning to Clay. Surely they weren't serious about this. Ripley was family but an Old Lady? And Tig's off all people?

"He's asked you? I mean we practically raised her . . ."

Clay frowned, not appreciating the tone to that particular sentence. He sighed deciding to start the damage control.

"Tig patched in when Rip was at school, Bobby. And he only met her in passing until she moved back here permanently. Would you rather see her with some lowly prospect? Or worse, a Nomad?"

Bobby shook his head as Piney rolled his eyes.

"Does _she_ know that's where this is going?"

Clays shrugged, pulling a cigar from his cut pocket.

"No fucking clue. I doubt even _**he**_ knows it, Old Man. He isn't exactly the most levelheaded guy out there . . . Way I figure he won't know until it's already too damn late to do anything to dissuade him."

Piney nodded, agreeing with that while Bobby looked between them.

"But what if he does?"

Clay shrugged, taking a long pull from the cigar.

"No clue brother. No fucking clue."


	2. Chapter 2

_Awww . . .

* * *

_

**W-T-Fuck?**

Tig grabbed the bottle of beer from the Prospect, downing it almost in two hard gulps. He slammed the empty container down, motioning for another. Half-sack was quick to get it, tossing the other away before he heard Jax and Opie heading out the back. Tig growled, more than slightly aggravated at the way the kid kept looking to the sounds of their retreating brothers. Finally he had enough and-with one hard flick off his hand-dismissed the kid.

"Go the fuck on, Prospect. Go play with your boyfriends."

The kid didn't even bat an eye as he shot around the bar and out the back, trailing hot on the others' heals. Tig glowered down at his beer, thankful and pissed at the solitude all at once. He knew he wasn't exactly the easiest person to deal with. Hell, he disliked himself most days . . . but to have the fucking Prospect cowering because he was in a bad mood after the shit with Ripley . . . really pissed him off. He didn't turn when he heard the door open and shut quietly, guessing it was probably Bobby or maybe even Chibs coming to check on him and see to his now throbbing, bleeding hand. So the light touch to his shoulder was a shock, as well as the soft husky voice that followed it.

"Let me see that hand . . . Tig?"

He turned, looking up to see Ripley standing there, her hand still lightly on his shoulder while the other was slightly extended towards his own. He raised a brow. She'd just land blasted his ass for stepping up for her and now she wanted to play doctor? He rolled his eyes, shrugging her touch before taking another long drink of his brew. He would never understand women . . . but this one was fucking crazier than most.

"Go the fuck on, Little Girl. I wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities with anymore macho shit."

She huffed at being shrugged off, reaching out and taking his hand hard enough to force him to turn on the bar stool. As soon as he was facing her, he opened his mouth to tell her to fuck off again when he noticed she wasn't even looking at him. She was staring intently at his bloody and batter knuckles, moving her fingers over the torn flesh light enough that he almost didn't feel it. The tenderness in the touch was as surprising as her previous attempts at getting his attention . . . especially considering the rather tight grip she was keeping on his wrist to keep him still.

He sighed, giving in momentarily and letting her look at the damn hand. It wasn't broken-he would know that, feel it- just bruised and mangled . . . She touched a particularly raw spot and he hissed, trying to jerk away. But she kept him there in her grip, looking up and locking her odd colored eyes with his own as she winced. Tig didn't know that Ripley could ever look at anyone like that, all full of sorrow and sympathy for their pain. Given what she did, he'd always thought she was pretty much like she acted on the job: cold, aloof and so painfully intelligent and professional that it was almost unbearable to be around her. He'd only seen her smile a few times with Jax and Opie-hell even Gemma and Clay only got these tiny smirks-but to see that normally pretty but distant face open and expressive was . . . different.

"Will you sit here and let me get a kit to look after this? Or are you going to run off the second I let you go?"

He snorted, draining the rest of his beer before tossing the bottle over the bar, smirking as he heard it collide with the other glasses in the waste bin. Ripley raised a brow, clearly unimpressed with his antics as she waited on his answer. Finally he nodded once, shrugging out of her grasp.

"Go ahead and get the kit, Doc. I'll be a good boy and wait right here. Scout's Honor."

Ripley put her hand on her hips, giving him a deadpan expression before rolling her eyes and going towards the dorms. He couldn't help but watch her stalk towards the rooms, full hips swaying in rhythm to the tapping of her heels against the floor while the swell of her ass just begged to be touched. Tig felt his face darken, the smirk falling as he glowered at the girl's retreating form. Her hourglass sporting curved in all of the right places with those long gold curls and smart ass mouthed form. He could not allow this to happen.

He'd promised himself-not to mention Clay- that after the Mexican prostitutes and the dead blonde hooker earlier this year that he wouldn't do anything stupid again inside of Charming. And the thoughts running through his head were definitely not intelligent. The girl was SAMCRO, she was family. And she wasn't a Crow eater. Clay had been very blunt in telling_** all**_ of them that hadn't been around when she was younger-Chibs, Happy, Juice, the Prospect and himself-that she was not a random score. If they wanted to do anything with her then by God they would do it right. Her Pops' memory deserved that much.

He heard her before he saw her, thanks to those damned heels but he wasn't prepared for what he saw. Ripley had shed her vest and had it draped over her arm, leaving her shirt fully exposed. She'd rolled the sleeves to her elbows and unfastened the top two buttons . . . exposing a fair amount of her cleavage and that long neck of hers. Her hair was now tied back in a knot at the base of her neck, falling in huge curls down her back. Tig groaned, cursing himself and her for being put in this situation. Why did he have to promise Clay he'd behave? Hell, why did he have to beat the shit out of that cocky little bruiser for touching the damn girl?

When she stopped in front of him, tossing the kit and vest on the counter behind him, he was rewarded with a peak at the cream lace beneath the fitted shirt . . . and the supple flesh that it was barely restraining. He closed his eyes, trying to think of the worst thing possible. Anything to block the image he'd just been gifted with. Bobby in a dress . . . no Piney in a dress. Yeah, _**that**_ would kill anything he felt south of the border for sure . . .

A cool hand on his forehead brought him out of his mental escape . . . and right back into hell on earth. Ripley was bent down, looking at him with concern showing clearly in her clear pretty eyes, plump bottom lip pulled slightly between her teeth as she traced his brow with her fingertips. The slight movement giving him a wonderful view of the lace he'd been trying to forget. Not only was it cream but it had these tiny pink satin ribbons right around the top . . . and what looked like a small pink bow right between her breasts. Oh dear God, he was only human . . . he couldn't handle this . . .

"Tig? Are you okay? You look a little flushed . . . do I need to have Jax call Tara?"

He snapped his eyes up, shaking his head clear of everything and thrust his hand out and to her harshly.

"Just get this _over _with, Little Girl. _**Some**_ of us have work to do."

Like_** not**_ imagining what she looked like spread across a bed, screaming out his name . . . or running her fingers through his hair . . .

* * *

Ripley jumped at Tig's harsh tone as he forced his hurt hand back into her own. She felt herself flush at the sheer anger and humiliation that his voice had caused to swell within her chest. She knew she might have overreacted a bit before . . . but he was a living breathing overreaction. His unnecessary use of violence is usually what kept him and Jax at odds. So, she felt, he could cut her a little fucking slack where the rest of this stuff was concerned. It wasn't like she meant to hurt his feelings . . . or would've been able to if she'd tried.

She closed her eyes, willing the moisture she felt trying to pool away and took a deep, calming breath to steady her. She would clean and wrap his hand then go over to Gemma's and have a nice long drink and maybe even a big fat smoke. She sighed, opening her eyes to find Tig was resolutely looking towards the main door to the clubhouse. _Keeping his eyes from her at all costs_. For some reason, after having his undivided attention in the office and before, being openly ignored like this left her feeling hot and cold. Hot with embarrassment that it mattered and a deep cold chill of rejection . . . and, if she was honest with herself, resentment that he'd apparently deemed her unworthy of even a bit of interest. _Especially _with the way he went after the Croweaters.

She shook herself mentally and set to work cleaning his wounds. Very carefully, she pulled the debris from the raw sores and swiped the area around them with the alcohol prep pads from the kit. When she was ready to peroxide his hand, she caught herself preparing to warn him of the sting the way she had kids during her ER rotations. For some reason, she thought he wouldn't appreciate the gesture of kindness . . . and went ahead and doused his hand with the liquid. Tig jerked, forcing her to hold his wrist tightly while he tried to get away, cursing the whole time.

"GOD DAMN IT! Shit! Did you have to do that?"

She closed her eyes, forcing herself not to rise to the bait. He'd hurt her feelings and anything she said now could hurt Clay and Gemma. Could hurt SAMCRO. And she wasn't going to destroy her father's legacy just to get in a cheap shot she'd feel sorry about later. So she kept her cool, and brought his hand to her face, opening her eyes to watch the liquid bubble away any foreign matter that could cause infection.

"Jesus, Girl. That burns like hell. What the fu-"

She blew across his battered knuckles, the same way her mother had done for her a thousand times as a child, and was surprised his rant cut off before he could insult her again. She looked up as she blew across them again, hoping to help the burn of the peroxide so she could finish up with the antiseptic spread and wrap this up. Tig however was looking at her like she was a damned idiot . . . and she felt her cheeks burn again. Of course she'd just made a huge fool of herself treating the Sgt. At Arms like a damned kid. Fuck it, he could figure out how to use the damned spread himself. She'd had enough abuse for one day.

"There . . . that should keep it from getting infected. Just put Neosporin on it and wrap it up to keep it from scarring over too badly. You're going to want to keep it wrapped for a few days."

And with those few words, she grabbed her vest and beat a hasty retreat, nearly running over Jax and Opie when she was almost at her car. Jax caught her, steadying her on her feet while he and Opie looked at her with concern written all over their faces as they stared down at her. Obviously waiting for her to start blabbing away like she always did with them. She so did not need this right now . . .

"Hey, Rip. You okay? We saw what happened with that idiot earlier . . . he didn't hurt you did he? I mean it had to be pretty bad for Tig to go apeshit like_** that**_ . . ."

Ripley felt the color drain from her face at the mention of Tig's name before she forced herself to regain what little composure she had left. She nodded, pulling herself out of Jax's grip just as the door to the clubhouse opened. She saw Tig emerge from the corner of her eye and prayed he wouldn't bother her before she could get into the Chevelle. She really just wanted to go home, call Gemma over and drown her day in a bottle of Black Jack. She smiled at Jax, turning to unlock her car door as she spoke to him, moving slowly so she didn't attract too much attention.

"Yeah, I'm fine Jackie boy. Just got a bit flustered you know? The guy wasn't doing much . . . just trying to get a date. Tig reacted quick enough to keep it from getting anywhere else, but if I had to bet on why he went so far then it was probably Clay being upset over the lack of respect is what set him off so bad. No one else tried anything after I came back out so I guess the lesson was learned."

She turned, tossing her vest into the car before cussing silently. She'd left her damned blazer in the clubhouse and Tig had yet to move. Actually, he seemed to be standing there talking to Chibs and watching the three of them with unveiled interest. Well, fuck that noise. She knew she was being silly but she wasn't up to dealing with Tig's mood swings anymore today. She looked to Jax, thinking on how to do this without being overly obvious.

"Hey Jax? Could you remember to grab my blazer from the clubhouse? I left it there earlier and I am so not crossing this gravel again in these heels. My feet are killing me."

Jax laughed, him and Opie both looking down at her heels with stupid grins.

"Yeah, Doll. I'll get it. Guess you'll remember flats for next time, huh?"

She nodded, crawling in the car as Tig nodded to Chibs and started towards Jax and Opie. She turned, cranking the car quickly and pulling her into gear. She was moving before Tig got close enough to do more than sign but she waved, acting like she didn't understand the sign for wait. She nodded to Opie and Jax before pealing out of the parking lot, spraying the three with gravel and dust as she tore out of Teller Morrow parking lot. As soon as she hit the main road, she slowed down and reached for her phone. To hell with all of this bullshit. She was going to the only living person in the world who could make her feel better.

She was going to see Gemma.

* * *

_Yeppers . . . I am crazy as a bed bug . . ._


	3. Chapter 3

**Conversations with the Queen**

Gemma Teller-Morrow watched Ripley flit around her living room, straightening pillows and pictures as she dusted the already spotless room. Ripley had worked hard to restore the two story two bedroom two bath farmhouse her parents had left her . . . so hard that when she needed the outlet like this that she found herself double and triple cleaning rooms. Which is why she usually went to Jax's or Opie's to help out. But Gemma knew whatever had happened at the garage and at work had been bad if the girl who was so much like a daughter to her had switched into 'clean everything until it shines' mode within her own walls. Something she'd learned from the Queen. Her.

She sighed, reaching out and taking a long gulp of the jack and coke she'd poured herself. When Ripley had called her, she could hear the sheer hurt and fatigue in her voice. Adding that to what Clay and Jax had called and told her had happened with the Long Beach crew . . . and it wasn't easy to see where the girl was going to land. Gemma herself would've been pissed over the obvious extreme reaction to an idiotic move by a young guy . . . and she could tell that was some of Ripley's issue. But something else had happened between the time she'd left Clay and came home. Something that had her almost in fucking tears one second then about to scream the next. She just wished she knew what it was.

Gemma reached out, catching Ripley's hand as she went to pass her to grab a new dust rag and pulled her onto the plush white couch beside her. The way she sank almost bonelessly into her grasp and laid her head on her shoulder, accepting the joint without complaint or protest told Gemma just how wrong whatever was eating her was. Ripley hardly ever smoked because of her work, usually on partaking every once in a blue moon or on extremely stressful days. She took a few hard draws before passing it back to Gemma, leaning further into the sofa as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. Gemma smiled, reaching out and brushing her bangs out of her face before resting her cheek against the crown on Ripley's curls.

"Okay baby . . . tell Mama what's wrong."

Ripley shrugged, her shoulders sagging enough for the huge jade green sweater to fall even further down her left shoulder. Exposing the stark white of her tank top and the slightly tanned creamy skin, complete with a light dusting of golden freckles from her time in the sun, for Gemma to see. Which only made her seem even younger than she already did. Ripley reached up, pushing her coke bottle glasses back up her nose as she drew her knees into her chest, picking at the white yoga pants almost listlessly.

"Just a bad day. I had to go help Lodi identify a body . . . the girl was cut to pieces and there really wasn't that much left. Then having to deal with all of the crap at the garage on top of it-all of them acting like I'm some kid who needs protecting one minute then like I don't exist the next . . . I see death every day Gemma. I'm up to my elbows in it. They could at least act like I'm almost thirty and not fucking thirteen, you know?"

Gemma nodded, soothing her curls as she listened to her talk. Ripley wasn't usually so tender hearted . . . she'd inherited balls of steel from her old man and a thick hide and thicker head from her mother. It was rare to see her with her shields down and her actually being vulnerable . . . Most other times the girl was almost chiseled from cool stone, interacting with people in a friendly but distant and insanely witty way. Which was something she knew that most of the newer additions to SAMCRO had mixed feelings about. Her boys didn't know how to take a woman who wasn't a bitch on wheels (like her), an out of place hold over (like fucking Tara) or a whore (the Croweaters).

"What _else _baby? I _**know **_something else is bothering you. Tell me about it."

* * *

Ripley sighed, leaning deeper into her godmother. It was so tempting to just tell her about the moment of whatever it was with Tig but she knew they were close. She wasn't going to fuck that up for either of them. Especially since she had, upon coming home and looking at herself in the mirror after she changed, been able to see where she had probably imagined the whole damn thing. There was no way a man like that was interested in her. She wasn't covered in tats and piercings. She barely ever rode anymore and she was almost always at work, dealing with dead bodies. Why would a man who craved life so viciously want to deal with someone who was almost never in it?

She looked up at Gemma, deciding to concentrate on the issues she could talk about.

"It's just been a bad day, Gemma. I didn't_ want_ to talk to that guy at the garage . . . but it was nice to be asked, you know? I mean, I haven't been on a date in forever and it's like the first guy that shows interest gets the shit pounded out of him. How am I supposed to meet anyone if that's the way everyone who wants to get close is going to get treated? And then there's this case that worries me. Something about it isn't right. I just feel like it's going to be so much bigger than one poor torn up girl . . ."

Gemma looked down at her, brow raised before her face darkened. Oh shit. She'd said just enough to incite Gemma the Righteous Defender . . .

"You let me worry about the first part and just keep your eyes open on the second. If it gets too bad, then the boys can actually do something _good_ for once . . . be the civil servants they're supposed to be. Okay?"

Ripley nodded, snuggling back into Gemma. Her rock. She didn't know how long the sat there before Gemma patted her leg.

"C'mon sweetie, go ahead and let's get you into bed. Do you have to work tomorrow?"

Ripley shook her head, standing and leaning into Gemma as she led her towards the staircase to upstairs. As they passed the guest bedroom, Gemma grabbed the huge blue violet cashmere throw from the bottom of the bed and wrapped it around their shoulders, causing Ripley to smile. Only Gemma could make something so small as wrapping them in a blanket seem like it would keep the world away. Soon enough, they were inside the master bedroom and Gemma was pulling the plethora of covers back while Ripley moved the mountain of pillows. Once she was able to get in and bunker down, Gemma kicked off her heeled boots and tossed her leather jacket to the side. She turned to Ripley, motioning her to lay back.

"I'm stealing a pair of your sweats, Love. And we're going to turn on that monster flat screen of yours and watch bad late night TV. Then we're going to get up tomorrow and go have a day to ourselves."

Ripley nodded, pointing Gemma towards her closet for the sleep pants.

"What about Clay? Won't he worry if you don't come home?"

Gemma shrugged, settling in beside her in the bed and pulling the covers up over their shoulders as Ripley turned on the TV.

"Let him worry. It might do him some damn good."

After a few seconds of channel surfing, she turned the remote over to Gemma . . . who promptly put it on the Discovery channel. As they watched the documentary on the oceans and aquatic life, both were lulled into a light sleep. And Ripley even managed to forget that Gemma never had called Clay to let him know she was spending the night.

* * *

_Wonder what's gonna happen next . . ._


	4. Chapter 4

**To Notice You**

When the next day dawned bright and early, Clay was pacing back and forth in his office as Tig and Jax watched him. Gemma hadn't come home the night before and no one had seen or heard of her since the last time he'd talked to her shortly before Ripley left. He'd already called Luanne and Tara. And neither had a clue as to where she was. The only person he hadn't been able to ask was Ripley . . . because she wasn't answering her damned phone either.

He sighed, running a hand over his face as he pulled a cigar from his cut and lit it, biting hard on the tip as he puffed. He'd tracked Tig down after Ripley had left, asking how their talk went. Tig had seemed puzzled before telling him that they'd hardly talked at all. She'd bandaged his hand and took off like a flash . . . pretty much clamming up like she always did and even forgetting her damned blazer in her haste. Jax had told him Ripley seemed rattled offering his guess that it had to do with the fight from before. But now, as Clay turned and saw the look Tig took on when Jax said someone should go check on Rip, he was willing to put money on something had happened between the two of them. This shit just kept getting better and deeper.

He sighed, nodding to Jax to go and check before shaking his head at Tig when he went to sit down across from him. Tig raised a brow, the look on his face showing his disbelief at Clay's order. When Gemma went AWOL, Clay knew Tig was the one who heard him out and-after the appropriate amount of time had passed-went out to track her down. It was one of the many things he trusted his SAA, his closest brother with . . . because Gemma wouldn't really respond to anyone else but Tig and Jax. And Jax would cave to his mother where Tig could maneuver her to at least calling in.

Clay sank deeper into his seat, looking Tig in the eye.

"Back him up, Tig. We got no clue what's going on. I don't want any more surprises . . . Especially since we have to meet Trammel later today. Apparently something's gone down in Lodi that he thinks the Sons need to be aware of."

Tig looked perplexed, but straightened, shedding his TM work shirt and tossing it over the back of the chair he'd been about to sit in. He turned to go to the door, and then stopped.

"What do you want us to de when we get there if she hasn't heard from Gemma?"

Clay blinked. Then shrugged, deciding to go with his gut.

"Tell her to get dressed and get her ass here to the clubhouse. If she doesn't know where Gemma is then it means there's trouble brewing . . . and she doesn't need to be in that house by herself out near the limits."

Tig nodded.

"And if she refuses?"

Clay's face darkened, knowing full well that with Ripley it was a possibility . . . especially if he was right about her and Tig. He looked up, locking eyes with his Sgt. At Arms.

"Then toss her ass over your bike and bring her in by force if you have to. She's going to come here and let us protect her. Whether she likes it or fucking not."

Clay watched Tig leave, knowing the man would follow that order to the damn letter if he had to and felt a bit more at ease. At least one of the women in his life was taken care of . . . now to just find the main one. Before worrying about her drove him mad . . . or made him mad enough to shoot her when he finally found her.

* * *

Tig shook his head, chuckling at Clay as he headed towards his bike. The President was rattled because his Queen was missing . . . and the little prodigal daughter might know where she was. As he nodded to Jax, throwing his cut on over the black long sleeved t shirt he'd been wearing under his work shirt, he found himself wondering if Gemma was okay . . . and if he really would get the opportunity to toss Ripley over his bike.

Jax raised a brow at him, putting his glasses on as he waited.

"You tagging along? What's wrong? Clay thinks I can't handle checking up on one girl by myself?"

Tig shook his head, sliding his own helmet on over his curls. He had hoped, since Jax and Clay had been a bit more at ease around each other since Ripley came back that they'd squashed whatever bullshit was between them. Apparently, Jax was just letting it fester. It was days like today-however rare- that the boy had better thank God he adored Gemma and was loyal to Clay and the Club . . . or he would've already put two in the back of the smart ass's head. The kid needed to learn that the VP patch still had to follow the Prez . . . and the Sgt. at Arms enforced all of the laws and codes. _Even that one_.

"Nothing like that, Jackie boy. Got a call for Trammel earlier. We've gotta meet. Something's gone down in county and the Sons might be called to handle it. Clay just doesn't want us riding alone till we know what that something was. No surprises . . . you ready?"

Jax nodded, seeming a bit calmer now that he knew it wasn't just him being followed or shadowed. He brought his bike to life, revving the engine.

"Ready. You know the way?"

Tig shook his head. He really _didn't _have a clue. When the others had moved the girl in, he'd been up in Indian Hills overseeing some of the aftermath of the patch over. Mainly dealing with the trouble makers and teaching the new SAA there what to and not to do. He hadn't even bothered to find out _after_ the girl helped save his ass. Up until yesterday, there hadn't been any need. She was about as sexless to him as anything could be and off limits . . . so he hadn't bothered with her. Part of him was wishing it would go back to being like that . . . while the darker part wanted nothing more than to seek her out . . . to see if the skin and curves he'd finally noticed were as soft and inviting as he believed they would be.

"No clue. I'll follow your lead."

And with that, they set out towards the Charming limits. And Tig was thankful for the silence being out on the road had brought him. He only hoped it would last once they got to Ripley's . . . because he really didn't want to have to manhandle the girl then go freeze himself in a cold shower. He'd already done that last night and all he'd gotten was cold before he finally sought out the Croweaters.

And even after three rounds, nothing could satisfy him. He'd pop and then, as he almost drifted into post-orgasmic bliss, his brain would fuck him over and flash a glimpse of lace and satin clad creamy skin. Clean and free of ink and bathed in the scent of Ripley's perfume and whatever fucking soap she used.

He groaned, shaking himself as he followed Jax down one of the back roads further into Charming's rural areas. Even now he could smell the same damn scent. It was nothing like the smells the Croweaters usually wore . . . or the hookers and strippers. They always wore the fruity overly sweet and strong shit that, after a few vigorous hours of fucking, would coat your skin and make you smell like a damn fruit stand. But Ripley seemed to favor the soft and subtle scents . . . Hell, he and Bobby had caught wind of her perfume once before in the clubhouse after she'd come to check on Opie. And it had driven them crazy until Chibs had joined in the search. The Scotsman had tracked the scent to Opie's cut, sniffing their shocked brother's chest like a damn wolf before announcing to everyone, "Ope is the one who smells so damned weird! Tell us boy-o, got some new strange fetish for the finer things?"

Tig smirked, slowing to turn as Jax motioned to the next left. Opie had been a good sport after the shock had worn off-and he'd tossed Chibs away to keep himself from being sniffed again. He'd explained that Ripley had come to see him and Jax, days earlier, before heading to Gemma's. When she'd hugged him goodbye some of her perfume had transferred to his damn cut, almost soaking into the leather. He'd been trying to get it off but had yet to find anything to do the trick. Chibs and Bobby had taken the cut, trying to drown out the scent with cigar and cigarette smoke and even pouring straight Jack on it, earning most of them a good laugh at Opie's horrified face at the clear desecration of his cut . . . Before deciding that whatever Ripley wore was determined to make Opie smell like a pansy.

* * *

Jax slowed and turned into an almost hidden drive, Tig following suit. But he wasn't ready for what laid beyond the huge oak and willow trees.

Ripley's house wasn't as big as Clay and Gemma's . . . but it wasn't what he'd expected the almost stoic girl to have either. The small white two storied farmhouse looked like it had stepped right out of a magazine spread. The sprawling wrap around porch sported a plush navy overstuffed sofa and two taupe and white striped armchairs, a large wooden coffee table anchoring them on the glistening dark wooden porch. The front door was painted a deep purple while the black tin roof had a slight patina to it, making it blend well with the charcoal shutters around all of the windows. This looked like the kind of house Tara would force Jax to buy to raise the million brats she probably wanted . . . not what Ripley would ever have.

Jax pulled up the small circle drive, parking next to Ripley's Chevelle. Tig pulled in beside him, cutting the engine and removing his helmet, shaking his hair free. Jax shook his own blonde locks loose, leaving his glasses on as he nodded his head towards the house.

"C'mon. Rip 'ill be in the kitchen or out in the laundry room . . . we'll head around back so we don't scare her to death."

Tig shrugged, following his VP while taking in the home of the newest SAMCRO. The yard was well kept and, despite the cooler weather, the flower beds around the house were blooming, framing the bottom of the house in varying shades of pinks, violets, greens and blues. When they got around to the back, Jax stopped, shoulders setting hard. As Tig saw what had him up in arms, he couldn't decide whether to laugh or be pissed.

There, sitting on the back porch in a huge overstuffed white chair, dressed in grey sweat pants and a white tank top was Gemma. Her hair was pulled to one side and her face clean of make up while she sighed; eyes closed, and sipped the coffee in one hand before sitting it down to take a drag from the joint in the other.

She looked up, spotting them and waved, oblivious to the trouble she'd been causing by not answering her phone.

Jax crossed the patio, Tig following closely to help keep peace between the matriarch and the prince. Hopefully, Jax wouldn't do something stupid . . .

"Damn it, Mom. We've been trying to find you since last night! You didn't think to call us and maybe let us know you weren't dead?"

Gemma raised a brow, giving Jax a deadpan look before taking another drag and offering it to him. Jax growled, sinking in the porch swing and taking along hard drawl from the joint. As he exhaled, he looked to Tig before looking back to his mother.

"We were worried . . . you don't just take off and there's some shit in Lodi that-"

"Lodi?"

Tig and Jax jumped at the new voice, Jax almost falling out of the swing while Tig narrowed his eyes at Gemma's laughter. Ripley had apparently walked outside and no one had heard it. She walked over slowly, sitting in the swing beside Jax before taking a sip from her own cup and keeping her eyes pointedly away from everyone but Gemma. Tig fought the urge to groan. Damnation why did his dick decide to notice the damn girl now?

Ripley was dressed in low slung white yoga pants that clung to her ass, hips and thighs before flowing out slightly at her calves to puddle around her bare feet. The straps of a bright white tank top could be seen thanks to the drooping neck and shoulder of her navy blue sweater. The sweater itself seemed unbelievably soft and clung to her chest and waist but hung off her shoulders and pooled around her knuckles. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, stray curls falling around her clean face. But what got Tig was the way her skin practically glowed. She wasn't as pale as he'd thought, though not the dark tan as most of the Croweaters or even Gemma, Ripley's skin had a nice healthy honeydew tan . . . and her cheeks, nose and shoulders and the barest dusting of golden freckles. And for some reason he found her like this, without the makeup and the suits and heels she had to have for work, to be so much more enticing than she was yesterday.

He turned his eyes from her, moving to sit in the other chair beside Gemma. Who was watching him a bit too intensely for his liking before she turned to Jax.

"So what's going on in Lodi?"

Jax shrugged, nodding to Tig.

"No clue, Clay got a call from Trammel for a meet. Apparently something happened in up in county that's got him wanting us aware."

* * *

Gemma's brows furrowed before she looked to Ripley. The girl was being awfully quiet now that the boys were here . . . and she knew it wasn't because of Jax. She glanced back at Tig before deciding she would talk to Clay. See if they could get to the bottom of whatever this was. She knew Tig was defensive of the club, of Clay and heel, even herself. But if he was deliberately alienating Ripley out of that loyalty then Clay needed to put an end to it. Bobby, Piney and Clay all loved to see Ripley come back to SAMCRO . . . same as Jax and Opie. And she knew that Juice and the Prospect were both nothing if not respectful of her. It was Chibs, Happy and Tig that kept Ripley-who while never tremendously outgoing around new people was never rude or ungracious- at odds.

Not that Ripley had ever said anything. Oh no, she was far too loyal to do that . . . . So she kept to herself and way from the others, trying to keep the peace for Clay. And so far, Gemma had thought that maybe it was for the best. But now, seeing this, she knew it wasn't. Ripley had a place within SAMCRO. Had since she was practically a born.

And her boys just needed to get over it and accept it. The girl was staying as long as she wanted . . . Hell at a time, Gemma had prayed that Jax would forget Tara and see Ripley for the true marvel she'd grown into . . . She shook her head, sighing quietly. This was _**not**_ going to happen. But first, she needed to see what was happening outside of her club.

She looked to Ripley, who was still staring intently into her own coffee cup.

"Do you think it could be about the body you had to examine yesterday, sweetheart?"

* * *

Ripley looked up, blinking as Gemma's question sank in before shrugging.

"It's possible . . . I mean, while the murder itself wasn't overly brutal the post-humus mutilation was . . ."

She shook her head, taking another sip of her coffee before looking up to Tig's voice.

"What do mean mutilation? And what body?"

She felt her cheeks flush before setting her coffee down and pulling herself up a bit straighter, reaching back to pull her already falling hair free as she explained what she'd been called for yesterday.

"I got a call from the county yesterday around noon, asking me to come and help handle a Jane Doe that turned up. Apparently, the Lodi coroner wasn't able to handle the scene properly. And when I got there I saw why."

She turned, locking eyes with Tig for just a second before turning to look at Jax.

"The victim was a girl, early to mid-twenties with long blonde hair. She was shot two times, once in the throat and once in the left temple with a small caliber sidearm before she was striped, her limbs lacerated and her torso almost completely dismembered right above the pelvic bone. She'd been dumped and left to the elements so carrion feeding and scavenging has made determining the actual size of the blade and cutting utensils a bit tricky. But, after the tox screen and the tissue analysis . . . I should have a bit more to go on . . . it's the reason I was so late getting to TM yesterday. Took me most of the damn day to find enough of her to put back together to make a full corpse."

"Why didn't you call one of us to come get you, Chaosia? You didn't need to drive home alone after that . . . or go and get in the middle of a damn fist fight at the damn Club."

Ripley turned and glared at Jax, speaking before Gemma could rebuke him.

"Seriously, Jackson? I worked and lived alone in fucking Long Beach. I was one of the only female forensic pathologists in the damn city . . . and I am very capable of taking care of myself at a crime scene. I appreciate the concern but I am not going to call you guys every time I see a bad body. The sooner you boys learn that I'm not made of fucking glass the better we will all get along."

She rolled her eyes, turning to Gemma.

"Besides, the last thing I needed was for one of the Sons to come in and puke everywhere because part of the damned intestinal tract was exposed or the heart was cleaved in two by one of the lacerations to the chest."

Gemma was trying not to laugh as Ripley refused to look at her boys. The girl had always been too smart for her own damn good and tried to figure out how everything worked. To hear her talk about the body like it was nothing was a bit unsettling . . . but only because she vividly remembered Ripley bawling her eyes out over a cat. Gemma shook her head, turning to the others. Jax looked pale while Tig was looking at her goddaughter with an odd gleam to his eye. Like she'd just unwrapped something for him that he'd always wanted . . . . and just hadn't known it.

Well, well well . . . Looks like maybe their Tigger was starting to notice what the others hadn't. She smirked, reaffirming her commitment to speaking to Clay. Maybe, just maybe, if this was handled right and allowed to grow . . . then Tig might end up keeping Ripley here with them instead of driving her away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Another Notch?**

As Ripley stood, she took Gemma's empty cup before heading back into her house. Once she was at the sink, she started rinsing the cups . . . only to be scared half to death by a hand on her shoulder. She spun, grabbing her chest as she came face-to-face with a very smug Tig. She glared, trying to control her heartbeat as he chuckled at her.

"Easy there, Little Girl. I just needed to ask where the damn bathroom is. Since Jax is about as helpful as a third elbow and Gemma is officially baked beyond any hope."

Ripley nodded, pushing away from the sink and heading towards the front of the house. She stopped at the white French doors into her dining room, suddenly subconscious about showing her home to the man that didn't even classify her as a woman. Would her house meet his standards where she didn't? And why did she even care in the first place?

She glanced back, seeing he was still standing at the sink and sighed. Today was not going to be a good day.

"C'mon . . . it's this way."

Tig nodded, following her into the dining room and tried his damnedest to not stare at the way her hips swayed when she walked.

Which was easier when he looked up and at the rest of her home.

The kitchen had been painted a deep purple, the cream cabinetry with glass doors and classic touches at home against the eclectic odds and ends-signs, keys, and even old flour bags matted and framed- she'd hung above the countertops. Said countertops where a gleaming creamy tan marble while the dark hardwood floors seemed to continue from the kitchen into the laundry and living rooms. Pictures and pieces of art lined the longest wall, which was decked in a cream and purple wall paper, while a small wooden table with two plush arm chairs acted as a dinette set was nestled against it.

But the dining room was something that had even him taking second glances. The walls were covered in an iridescent platinum wall paper, the window seals painted a high gloss white like the ceiling while the gleaming hardwood floor was partially covered by the plush white rug beneath the long farmhouse table. Said table was lined with four white leather chairs on either side, each sporting a sparkling silver accent pillow while the two end chairs were out of this world. Bright magenta armchairs with silver brad details and throw pillows with a vibrant multicolored print to match the various pieces of art hanging on the walls. The lapis chandelier hung low over the table, casting a warm glow over the white, silver and magenta place settings.

Tig turned, following Ripley into the living room. Where the dining room was mixed with colors against the metallic back drop, this room seemed to be the neutral ground. The walls were painted a warm pewter color and all of the furniture was a really light cream color with huge throw pillows-all white and cream with different black and navy typography on each- all over the sofa and the two seater chair. A huge leather trunk was in the middle of the living room, with two smaller matching trunks on one side of the sofa and beside the chair acting as tables. A sleek flat screen TV was hung on the river stone fireplace, picture frames already adorning the rugged wooden mantle. A dark cream rug was stretched beneath the sitting area while the last wall was nothing but bookcases, sporting blue and black leather bound volumes and tomes.

Tig turned, looking at Ripley as she led him through another small hallway, past the winding spiral staircase and towards what he hoped was the bathroom. As they passed another open door, he caught a glimpse of taupe walls, another cream rug and a white desk and work station. Ripley caught him looking and sighed, pushing the door further open for him to see the wall of windows at the back of the room and the various pieces of art on the walls. As well as the white laptop perched on the desk and the stack of files.

"I turned one of the bedrooms into an office . . . seemed like a smart thing to do . . ."

Tig nodded, stopping to look down at her. She was still looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers . . . and worrying her bottom lip again.

"How big is this place anyway?"

She blushed, looking away and back down the hall they'd come from.

"Two bedrooms and two baths . . . my parents bought it before they passed . . . and I've been working on it since I moved back to Charming. Thank goodness the only thing left now is a few odds and ends in the upstairs bathroom."

Tig raised a brow, looking back around the hall and the house. She'd done all of this by herself? Why hadn't the club helped?

"You did all of this?"

The blush on her cheeks darkened as she nodded, reaching out to open the door at the end of the hallway. He looked in, not surprised to see the same dark wood floors and taupe walls. The white pedestal sink looked old but he could tell it was new . . . just like the claw foot tub and sleek raindrop showerhead. A white crocheted shower curtain hung from the halo curtain rod while a fluffy white rug was there at the tub. White peonies and blue hydrangea sat in a glass vase on the small white dresser behind the door, a white ribbon tied around the center. Towels were rolled and fitted in a dark wood wine holder beside the flowers while a silver tin of soaps, shampoos and conditioners sat in the floor right beside the sink. The only picture on the wall was a frame holding a labeled set of antique keys in various styles and colors.

Ripley turned, going to leave.

"Towels are here and hand towels are in the first two drawers. Soap is there . . . think you can find your way back?"

He gave a deadpan look and nodded, waving her out.

"Yeah, yeah Little Girl. I'm sure I'll find my way."

She rolled her eyes, closing the door as she left him to his business . . . which was actually not as pressing as he'd made out to be. He'd just been curious about the house. He sighed, rolling up his sleeves before deciding to go ahead and piss. He and Jax had a long ride back . . . might as well . . .

* * *

Once he'd made sure to leave the pristine bathroom just as he'd been led to it, Tig found himself dying to walk up the stairs and take a peek at the rest of the house. The only thing up there should be her bedroom and the master bathroom . . . which made the rooms huge. Finally, curiosity won out and he was very quietly climbing the dark wooden stairs. At the top, he found a small landing that had a set of large French doors just behind another white sofa-this one crowned in multicolored pillows to match the art and photos lining the far wall- and a small mirrored coffee table.

Tig shrugged, crossing to the doors and pushing them open . . . not in the least prepared for what was waiting on him. Ripley's room was huge and done in the same wall paper as her dining room. A tall white Cali King canopy bed, complete with flowing white sheers hanging all around it and piles of white and cream covers and pillows, took up a good portion of the room while two mirrored side tabled flanked the bed. One held an old fashioned silver alarm clock and a similar arrangement to the one downstairs while the other held TV remotes and a dog eared book.

Tig turned, seeing a mirrored dresser and the door for a walk-in closet . . . and the doorway to the bathroom. But no TV. He shrugged, turning to leave to run right into a very shocked Ripley . . . clad only in torn jeans and a light blue bra with white lace hugging her chest. Her hair was down and over one shoulder and he could see the very top of the matching lacey panties as he noticed the jeans weren't actually closed. She'd been changing . . .

Her cheeks flushed again, this time the blush spreading down her slender neck and into her chest as she stared at him open mouthed. He went to speak, to say anything to keep himself from acting on the impulses swirling in his brain, when his head jerked to the side seemingly on its own. He blinked, feeling the sharp shooting pain radiating from right around his jaw. And then it clicked. She'd hit him. The little brat had actually hit him!

He glared down at her but Ripley didn't retreat. Far from it. She balled her fist and took another swing at him, barely missing him as he stepped back and caught her fist. One hard jerk brought her flush against him as he spun her and held both hands so she couldn't hit him again. God damn she had spunk.

"Settle girl. I didn't know you were up here . . . just curious as to what the rest of the place looked like. Didn't mean to catch a free show."

She snorted, bringing her foot against his shin hard enough to make him squawk. When he went to move to grab her again, she brought the other foot up and around, connecting solidly with his other cheek. A few seconds later, as he blinked back to awareness, he realized not only had she hit him but she'd fucking round-housed him too. He looked up, seeing her pulling her tank top and sweater from earlier back on.

He sat up slowly, not sure of what to do next as he took in how upset she was. When she finally spoke to him, he felt like he'd been dropped in another fucking world.

"Just get out. I may have to put up with the crap at the club but I sure as hell won't tolerate it in my own damn home. And as far as your show, I hope you enjoyed it. Because it was the last one you'll get from me. Besides . . . I'd hate for you to have to break from your Croweater habits, Tig."

He glared, rising to his feet to stand toe-to-toe with her. Who the fuck did she think she was? His habits? No one spoke to him that way. To any Sons for that matter . . . but sure as hell not him.

"Well at least I have a damned life, Little Girl. Outside of this house and whatever pity Gemma and Clay throw at you what do you do? Work?"

She glared, her eyes going colder than he'd ever seen them as she stretched to her tiptoes. Tig couldn't help but inhale deeply. She was wearing that damned perfume again.

"What does my life have to do with you, Tig Trager? Hm? You've made it more than clear that I'm barely even human to you-much less a woman-so do _**not**_ lecture _me_ on how to behave. Like you'd know anyway."

He smirked down at her, seeing an opening to get her out of face and bring her down a few notches. It wasn't like she was right about him having no clue how women outside of the club acted . . . he'd been with plenty. But the free pussy without strings was one of the perks of being who and what he was . . . And she was crazy to think otherwise. If he _wanted_ her panting on that bed, the only thing stopping him would be Clay's direct order. And if she didn't stop with this new found attitude even that wasn't going to hold up.

"Bet it eats you alive, doesn't it? Knowing that those girls, those Croweaters can have any one of us they chose, as often as they chose. Jax, Opie, Me. Hell even Sack . . . And you're stuck here by yourself. I bet you wouldn't even know your way around how to _handle_ a real man, sweetheart. Much less one like me and the other Sons. But you're right. I can't tell you how to behave. I've got no clue how Little Girls are supposed to act . . . Hell, even my daughters don't act as juvenile and naïve as you d-"

* * *

Ripley doubted that Tig had been stood up to any time in recent history. Especially by a girl. But she wasn't about to let him sit there and keep going on and on about how much better than her those damned skanks were. She may not have been a whore but she'd damn well show him she knew her way around pleasing a man. Hell, before she'd moved her ex had all but begged her to stay. Which was something considering the man barely spoke ten words a year unless they were arguing or fucking.

And it was that thought process that landed her here, with her mouth moving feverishly over his while one of her hands traced ever so lightly down his chest. The other wound its way into his curls, parting the thick dark ringlets as her fingers moved through them. For the first two seconds she was sure she'd made a grave miscalculation . . . until his hands started roving and his mouth matched her pace. When she parted her lips, his tongue was there, eager to taste her. When she went to withdraw, he moved to follow her . . . and when she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, scraping it ever so slightly as she eased back onto flat feet she savored the little shiver and groan she drew from him. Because they announced her victory over him. His eyes were still lidded as she leaned in, nipping his jaw hard.

"Never doubt for a second, Trager that I couldn't have or do anything I wanted. And luckily for you and your brothers . . . I don't want anyone in SAMCRO. But you were right about one thing . . . I wouldn't know what to do with a man like any of you . . . I mean do any of you even know how to make a girl cum?"

He blinked, shocked as she stepped away and turned for the door, pulling her sweater a bit straighter as she smirked at him condescendingly.

"I didn't think so. Tell you what . . . when you want to learn maybe I'll teach you. Otherwise keep your hands and your eyes to yourself."

And with that, she was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks so much for the faves and alerts! It really means a lot! And so do the reviews. Just a warning, this chapter gets a bit odd. But it needs to to go where I see this leading . . ._

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* * *

_

Tig watched the doorway Ripley had vanished through, not quite comprehending what was going on. He was by no means stupid or slow . . . but the girl left him feeling like a fucking dunce in the corner. With a raging fucking hard on to boot. He would have never, ever guessed that Clay's goddaughter would move-taste-or fucking talk like that . . . and the little scuffle before . . .

He shuddered, feeling himself get even harder. She'd brought her foot around and caught him the damned head before he could react, knocking him flat on his fucking back like some lowly prospect . . . And then had moved away to finish getting dressed while he'd laid there dazed. That was cold. And unbelievably fucking hot. Especially since he knew how damned flexible she was to have managed it.

Fuck the foreplay . . . all he needed with her was five minutes of knock down drag out brawling and . . .

He sighed, trying to clear that particluar thougt from his mind while resituating himself in his jeans, having to go far as to un-tuck the black shirt and pull his cut a bit tighter, before going to leave the bedroom. He was almost to the door when he stopped. He'd come up here to see the rest of the house and he doubted he'd get another chance . . . Finally, curiosity won out and he retreated further into the bedroom. He glanced around the huge walk-in closet, refusing to pay too much attention to the rows of heels and the dresses and lace he could see in the far back, before moving on into the bathroom. And wishing he hadn't.

The room was huge with a stand-alone shower taking up most of the far wall, a shining wall of glass separating it from the rest of the room. He could see the showerheads mounted on the walls and the ceiling, barely peaking from the river stone tile. The glass itself looked old, with ripples and bubbles in it . . . but the huge clawfoot tub was what got him. It was twice the size of the one downstairs with-he noticed the closer he got- whirlpool jets in the back and sides. The small table beside it held an assortment of candles and bath soaps, much like the tin downstairs . . .

He sighed, shaking his head and turning to the huge silver mirror over the vanity. The dresser styled cabinet had a solid piece of white stone covering it, a clear glass bowl sitting atop it with a wall mounted silver spicket and knobs. He moved closer, seeing more flowers and girlie shit . . . but stopped when he saw the pictures tucked under the frame of the mirror. Lined up, sticking out at various angles in both color and B&W, were at least twenty photos of different people.

The one that caught his attention however was of Ripley, Gemma and what he could only assume was her mother. All three were in front of this very house, smiling for the camera as they hugged. Ripley looked so much younger . . . but he could now see the truth to Piney's words when she'd first moved back. The girl was _**all**_ her mother . . .

The next one was small and B&W of her mother and a man he'd seen many times on the Fallen Son's wall in Church. They were looking at one another, unaware of the camera, smiling. He was in his cut, the Sgt. At Arms patch plain as day while the woman was dressed in this flowing white dress. No ink marred her skin save the small black crow on her shoulder . . . clearly visible thanks to the dress's scooped neckline. Tig reached out, touching the photo before stepping back and heading out of the room. He suddenly felt like he was intruding on something not even he should be privy to . . .

As he walked down the steps, he shook himself . . . thankful that at least perusing the bathroom had helped alleviate the hardness in his jeans to where it was at least mask-able. But for some reason, seeing the pictures had been oddly concerning. Before he'd been able to act like the girl was just what she seemed-some pop up with no real ties to SAMCRO or his brothers. But now, he knew that maybe he'd misjudged. Not that he'd admit it aloud. And not that it changed anything.

The girl was still a brat-a hot brat who had really better thank God for Clay's standing order-but she was a brat with some rights. He turned the corner going back out to the porch and ran into Gemma. She stopped, looking him up and down before shaking her head and grabbing his cut, dragging him behind her into the smaller downstairs bathroom. As soon as the door was shut, she turned on him arms crossed and brow raised.

_Dear Lord, what did he do **now?**_

* * *

"Well?"

Tig shifted, shrugging before settling his eyes anywhere but on her. Which was fine. Because they weren't leaving until she had answers. Ripley'd come back downstairs a few minutes before, visibly upset and swearing it had nothing to do with anything . . . but she knew better. Jax had barely even picked up on it but Gemma-stoned or not-knew her goddaughter.

And she also knew Tig. She narrowed her eyes, bringing a finger close to his nose as she spoke to him in a low, even voice. No need to alert the others as to what she was doing. Yet.

"Tigger, I love you to death but I _swear_ if you do anything to hurt that girl I'll have your dick as a trophy. She's been through too much and is too precious to me for you boys-_**my**_ boys-to treat her like she doesn't matter. Or like it's some game to see if you can upset her. I won-"

Tig cut her off, hissing in righteous indignation as he fought to keep his voice down. Which only told Gemma that whatever was going on here was far more complicated than she'd originally guessed.

"Might wanna tell **_her_** about the games part, Gemma. I was nosing around and scared her while she was changing. That's it. I tried to apologize and she fucking hit me. She**_ hit_** me, Gemma! Do you know what that kinda shit **does** to people?"

Gemma rolled her eyes, crossing her arms again as she gave him a deadpan look. Did he seriously? It wasn't like . . . Her eyes widened before she could stop them and she started choking back laughter.

"Oh My God . . . you don't, do you?"

Tig's blue eyes narrowed and hardened until they were almost gray but Gemma knew that she was right at least on some level. Oh Clay was going to love this. But Tig's next words shocked her . . .

"Jesus Gemma! What is this kindergarten? That girl is **blood**. _**Family.**_ It's already been decreed that to fuck with her is to as good as ink her as your Old Lady. Not that any of that mattered much to her when she round housed my ass . . . and besides. She just told me plain as fucking day she wants nothing to do with any Son that way. Not that I would've ever been able to fucking guess it . . ."

Gemma looked at him, curious.

"Why? What happened?"

Tig snorted, glaring at her.

"Yeah right. Like she _didn't _come crying to you the second I hurt her little feelings. Bet she even told you that she _**had**_ to fucking kiss me to shut me up so she could run to you or some stupid shit like that. I am really beginning to despise all the bullshit around that bitch."

* * *

Tig turned, still fuming as he watched Gemma go completely still and he knew he'd fucked up. He might not like Ripley-okay he wanted to fuck her inside and out but he did** not** like her. Period-but he knew how much she meant to Gem. He'd just seen evidence of it upstairs . . _. **Fuck**_**. **He laid a hand on her shoulder, peaking down at her with a worried smile.

"Oh, c'mon Gem. You know I didn't really mean it like that . . . the girl is just _weird_. But I'm sure with how much you love her she's just-"

Gemma looked up at him, still wide eyed.

"She never said a **word, **Tig. I _asked_ but she said she was just rattled because of work . . . did you two have it out yesterday too?"

Tig sighed, nodding as he ran a hand through his hair. Then instantly regretted it as his brain flashed him the sensation of Ripley's hands doing that. And her lips on his. Jesus . . . He looked at Gemma, not caring in the least that he was lost in all of this. He was **_trying _**to be good. To do **_right_** by Clay and the club . . . but he needed help.

"Gemma what do I **do**? What **did** I do? She kisses the fucking fire out of me then tells me wants nothing to do with any of it . . . how do_** I**_ act about this?_** Every**__thing_ I want to do goes against Clay and the Club. Last thing I need is another ghost haunting me . . ."

Gemma sighed, pulling him into her and rubbing his back. This was one of the reasons he adored Gemma. She _always _helped him. All of them. Despite how fucked up he was and could be. After a few seconds, she pulled him back and looked him in the eye.

"You make it right. And you do right by her. That doesn't mean you boys ignore her either. She grew up in SAMCRO. Apparently, I'm gonna have to remind my husband of the same thing . . . But as far as the other . . ."

She sighed, patting his cheek before kissing the other.

"I've got no clue baby. I want both of you happy . . . but I know that it won't last. What did you say to her . . . "

His shoulders sagged, as he told her. And he didn't even flinch at the swift cuff to the back of his head. or whine when she reamed him out for calling anything she did for her charity.

"I know, Gem. I know. She just . . . after yesterday. I mean, she _freaked _when I went to stand in for her against that creep. Then she pops up and tried to take care of me. And all I can see is how damn . . ." He motioned his hands wildly "Whatver she is. She isn't like the others. And Clay was clear. I've already had one Old Lady go Gem . . . But I can't stop seeing her damned skin or smelling that stupid perfume. Or quit tasting those fucking lips of hers."

He sank to the floor, looking up to Gemma before looking to his hands. He took a deep breath and let it all go. Gemma would never breathe a word to anyone . . . not even Clay if he asked her. And by God he needed to know what to do.

"Last time it was like this was with Dawn and Fawn's mom . . . And before yesterday, even with all of the strange and the kink and the Croweaters . . . I still tasted her sometimes. You know? Still heard her. I can't go through that twice. Nearly fucked me royally to do it before and that was in fucking Tacoma. And now the twins want to come visit . . ."

Gemma sank beside him, petting his hair with one hand while the other went on top of his.

"When the girls come you go and be with them. I know how you are about them. So does Clay. And honestly baby you need that now. With everything you've been asked to do recently . . . all the shit going on up _there._ You need them. And Ripley . . . that'll all work itself out. Just . . . do what I said. Do right by her. Be nice . . . as nice as you can without crossing that line. And if the line comes up and things go over it, we'll deal with it. Just . . . be careful with it. But for now lets go and get to the garage before Clay shits his heart."

Tig nodded, kissing Gemma's hands as they stood.

"I love you Gemma. I don't know what we do without you, you know?"

Gemma however just laughed and shrugged, reaching out and cupping his face to kiss him lightly on the lips.

"I love you too, Tigger. And you would all run around wild with no one to bitch at you if I wasn't here."


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay so this is a pretty bug update. I'm only going to say that I hope you enjoy it. _

_

* * *

_

_Tig chuckled darkly, tightening his grip on the honeydew tanned hips in his hands as the girl moved above him. She took him just a bit deeper, causing his head to lull back into the softness of the huge bed . . . eyes closed in pleasure as he heard her breath hitch as she bucked against him. Oh God if she did that again he was done for . . . He opened his eyes, savoring the sight of her now ruined dress shirt as it hung loosely around her shoulders. Allowing him to see the perfect breasts trying to overflow from the silk and lace confines of her bra . . . and the barest tips of the tattoo starting on her shoulder. He saw her lips were parted as her own head fell back, long golden blonde curls cascading down her back to graze his thighs as he felt her climax creep closer and closer. _

_But no matter what he did, he couldn't see her face. Not clearly. He knew he knew her . . . and that-for some unthinkable reason given the pleasure surrounding both of them-he wasn't supposed to be here. To be doing this . . . especially with __**her.**__ He groaned, pulling himself up to lavish her neck with kisses and bites, loving the way she bared the flesh to him. Offering herself to him without hesitation or remorse as she came around him. Again. He grinned against her skin, promising himself that he would keep her here in this bed making those sounds for the rest of their lives if she would let him . . . if Clay and the others didn't kill him first. But why would they kill him? _

_Her hair fell over his shoulder as she slumped bonelessly against him, her body still quaking and shivering as he pulled her hips harder against his. He felt himself getting close and the urge to pull her tighter against him- to own as much of her as he fucking could- became uncontrollable as he caught her at the base of her skull and pulled her up to look at him. _

_Sea glass green met icy blue as he felt himself start to come undone . . . and he realized he knew those eyes. So odd and expressive while still so cold . . . and so unbelievably fucking hot as they locked with his own. God, he could drown in those eyes, as fucking sappy as that sounded._

"_Alex . . ."_

_Her voice carried to him, a mix of husky seductress and almost timid softness as he finally saw all of her face. Her plump, pouty lips parted in a silent cry as she came again while her eyes closed, dark lashes fanning over high cheekbones and flawless skin. And the barest dusting of golden freckles across her cheeks and shoulders. With her body tightening, clenching and writhing above him . . . everything else fell away . . . until it hit him like a surge of cold water . . ._

Tig shot up from his covers, drenched in sweat and breathing like he had just run a fucking marathon as his heart tried to escape the ribbed cage within his chest. He sank back against his pillows, thankful-for once- he was alone and in his apartment rather than his room at the Club. Because it would've been overly embarrassing to have to know whatever faceless sack of meat and tits that he'd carried off to fuck silly had witnessed him in the throes of a nightmare. And what a fucking nightmare it had been . . .

He groaned, closing his eyes to have to open them almost instantly. This was not good. He hadn't had a fucking wet dream since he was in the damn Marines . . . and to have one now, about her of all people . . . The girl was in his head and crawling under his skin. And all from a little glimpse of skin and one hell of a kiss.

He turned, seeing it was only 2:45 AM. He might as well try to sleep again . . . He shifted, grimacing at the stickiness of his boxers.

_Okay. Now this was fucking ridiculous._

He was going back to goddamn sleep if it killed him . . . After he showered and changed.

* * *

Tig was sure that there was some universal conspiracy against him as he watched Ripley waltz into the T&M garage, between the guys and the fucking dreams. And it was going to be successful . . . especially if she kept dressing the way she was today . . . Gone were the dress pants, fitted button down shirts and the vests and blazers. And in their place was positively the most mouthwatering thing he'd ever seen . . . and she still looked so Goddamn innocent it wasn't funny.

The dark washed and distressed faded jeans hung loose on her hips while fitting a little too well on her butt and legs then tapering down and scrunching around her cream stiletto heels, making her already impossibly long legs seem even longer. The retro styled light blue top with the tiny flower print was innocent enough with its cap sleeves and squared neckline with small lapels . . . until he noticed just how very low cut said neckline actually was. But, paired over a very lacey white camisole that framed her chest a little too nicely, it still managed to look conservative enough. Until she bent down to pick up her keys. And then he'd gotten a very nice view of just how tight the shirt was stretched over her breasts . . . and how said breasts were practically spilling over the lacey bra he _**knew**_ she was wearing. She seemed to have a penchant for lace and silk and all the things she knew would drive him fucking batshit crazy. She was even wearing a long gold necklace with a glossy iridescent blue-green koi fish charm that was designed to move with its wearer along with simple iridescent blue-green tear drop earrings and a matching gold, diamond and aquamarine koi cocktail ring making it easy to see the influence of her love of anything related to the ocean . . . if Gemma and Jax were to be believed.

He groaned, turning away from where she was talking animatedly with Juice and Chibs (fucking turncoat) before he did something stupid. After he'd escorted her and Gemma back to the garage, he'd deliberately avoided her and had gone to the meet with Clay. And as it turned out, Gemma had been right. Trammel was asking if they knew anything about the murder . . . because it hit some MO the feds had forwarded about a huge case down South. Clay had shared everything they knew-which was fucking nothing-but had promised to help keep an eye on it. Because Ripley had been right about the girl's age. Poor little Amelia Tourney was never going to see her twenty second birthday. And her parents weren't going to be able to have an open casket.

Tig sighed, cutting his eyes to Ripley as her laughter floated to him over the sounds of the shop and the radio blaring in the corner. He'd been ignoring her pretty steadily for almost a week and half now . . . telling Gemma that he would eventually apologize to her but he was just going to leave her be. He knew Gem had been disappointed but she'd consented, going on a bloody warpath against Clay and Piney for alienating the girl. However unintentional it might have been.

So now, Chibs and Happy had climbed right on board the Ripley train, not even sparing him a backwards glance as they started laughing and joking with the girl like she had always been there. Chibs sudden interest wasn't too surprising-the girl was hot and a new, fresh face in a small town- but Happy's easy acceptance had him on edge. Apparently the tattooed enforcer had run with her half-brother in the Nomads . . . and he had no problem accepting she belonged to the First Sgt.

Tig rolled his eyes, moving towards the office. Maybe if he was lucky, Gemma or Clay would have a Repo for him to do . . . and he could get out of this damn sorority house. Juice's words-however-brought him to a screeching halt.

"So, uh, Ripley. Any chance of you going to grab some lunch with me?"

Tig turned, fully aware that his right eye had started to tick as he glared at his younger Brother. But Juice was nonplussed; all smiles and bashful charm as he stood with his hands in his pockets chin slightly dipped as he waited for her to answer. Oh he'd kill him for this. They all damn well knew that even though Clay had lifted the fucking order they were _**not**_ supposed to start in with the shit like this . . .

"Sure . . . where do you want to go? Because there's this great place just outside of Lodi that serves the best Italian I've had in a while. If you're up for it . . ."

Tig knew he shouldn't, he knew it was only going to get him in a world of trouble. But seeing her smile up at the big goofy moron, cheeks flushed as she shifted from one foot to the other flipped every common sense breaker in his brain to the OFF position. He'd dreamed of her every fucking night since she'd turned his world upside fucking down and she was going to stand here and flirt with _Juice_? Oh hell no. And it was with that thought that- before he could stop himself- he'd crossed the garage and had Ripley by the arm, dragging her into the office with him.

He let her go, spinning to slam and lock the door before the shock could wear off. As he turned back to speak, she caught him in the fucking nose with that damn left hook. And the huge fucking ring. He growled, shaking his head and glaring down at her as she glowered right back at him. He stepped closer to her . . . right as she sank the three inch heel of her left shoe into his foot.

He hissed, grabbing her by her shoulders and pulling her flush against him, keeping her still as he fought the urges trying to rise to the surface . . . though the main one at the moment was to throttle her.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Little Girl. Do you have any fucking clue how bad I want to beat some damn sense into you? What the hell do you think you're doing out there?"

* * *

Ripley glared at Tig hard enough that she knew his skin was burning. If there was one thing dealing with the numerous assholes that populated the Federal and Local police forces had taught her it was to never back down . . . and the underrated value of a good, hard glare. She'd sent many a snobby or chauvinistic asshole cowering on their way . . . and this, this . . . _**whatever**_ he was, was not going to shove her around.

"I was agreeing to go to lunch with one of the _few _members of this Charter that _doesn't_ think I'm made of fucking glass. Or some androgynous tag along. What the fuck does it matter to you?"

Tig's crystal blue eyes narrowed at her and Ripley knew if she hadn't been so mad she would've had to restart her heart. Thank God her Pops had taught her the art of staying pissed to stay alive. He dipped his head, bringing his lips almost to hers as he practically growled at her.

"Whatever happened to all of that bullshit about you not wanting anything to do with any of the Sons? Huh?"

Ripley smirked, seeing her chance to get out of this with her ego intact. It wasn't like she could do anything to make the man hate her any **more** than he already did . . . and if she was completely honest with herself, these little tiffs with him were the most fun she'd had outside of the bedroom in _years_ . . .

"Maybe I was just _trying_ to be nice, Tiggy." She leaned up and into him, barely touching her lips to his as she taunted him. She knew she could win this, she just had to keep it together long enough to do it. And if she rattled him, then all the better. Because her little stunt nearly two weeks before had left her more than wanting. She just wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Ever. "Maybe I just don't want any part of _**you**_ . . ."

* * *

Clay and Gemma walked into the garage and shared a look, the President surveying the scene before them with a raised a brow. Chibs and Juice were talking with Opie . . . and Juice did not seem happy at all. He sighed, looking down to his wife as she looked skyward.

"Dear Lord what now . . ."

He shrugged, tossing his arm over her shoulders and steered them towards the trio. The closer they got, the more confused he got. What in the hell had happened while he'd gone to lunch? He reached out, tapping Juice on the shoulder . . . and almost laughed out right at the look on the boy's face. But his words brought the President of the Redwood Charter back to rights . . . and into a very foul mood.

"I swear to God Clay, if he's hurt her I'll kill him if it kills me. Son of a Bitch had _**no**_ right to do that to her. I don't care what patch he has."

Gemma stepped forward, letting Clay's arm fall to his side as he clinched and unclenched his aching fists. From his reaction, he knew or had a pretty good idea what was going on . . . but she was in the dark. And if there was one place the Matriarch of the Sons of Anarchy did not like to be it was in the fucking dark. She cupped Juice's cheek, trying to calm him down as she rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

"Who did _**what**_ to _**who**_, Juice?"

The mohawked man sighed, nodding his head towards the office.

"I asked Rip to go eat lunch and fucking Tig pops out of the damn woodwork. Looking fucking pissed as hell. He grabbed her arm and drags her into the fucking office . . ."

Clay didn't wait to hear anymore, he turned and stalked towards the room, digging his keys out of his pocket as he came to the door. He heard Gemma tell the others to wait there as she ran to catch up with him, cursing under his breath as she came to stand behind him. In under a few seconds, the door was open . . . and neither could believe what they saw.

Tig had Ripley pulled flush against him, mouth slanted firmly over hers as one of his hands tangled in her hair while the other had a very firm grip on the swell of her ass. Ripley's arms were around his neck, her hands buried in his dark curls as her mouth worked to meet his pace. When Ripley pulled away, gasping for breath as her head lulled back, Tig's mouth worked down her jaw to her neck. Nipping and biting as he lifted her and deposited her on Clay's desk. Neither seeming to care about the angry red trail he left in his wake . . . or the blood that was dripping onto her shirt from the cut in his cheek.

Clay stood there, shocked while Gemma regained enough sense to push him inside before slamming the door. Hard. At the sound, Ripley and Tig both jumped, Tig pulling Ripley tighter against him as he spun to face Clay. Effectively shielding her and hiding her from sight. If he'd had time, Clay would've laughed at the abnormally sweet gesture from the normally sinister man . . . But Ripley snapped out of whatever lust induced haze she'd been in.

And cuffed the back of Tig's head as hard as she could. The Sgt at Arms turned, glaring at her as she practically seethed up at him from her position on the desk. Working to set herself to rights. Tig, however, was having none of it-and almost had both of the Morrows rolling in the floor as he growled at her. Ripley was unfazed and swung, connecting a solid right hook to the man's jaw before sliding off the desk. When he went to grab her again she stomped on his foot hard enough to make even Clay wince before bringing her other foot around in a solid roundhouse kick to connect with the same abused cheek.

Tig staggered, sliding down the filing cabinet before he regained his footing . . . and caught her next swing, pulling her flush against him again. Both were breathing heavy, panting as they glared at one another. Though both Clay and Gemma knew that-with some of Tig's habits- this was probably better than any foreplay the girl could've dreamed up. He growled again, getting down in her face as he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Will you _**quit **_fucking hitting me?"

Ripley glared back but nodded, jerking her hand away as he loosened his grip . . . before kneeing him straight in the balls. Tig slid all the way to the ground while Clay bit the inside of his cheek to keep the guffaws of laughter from escaping. But nothing he did could keep his shoulders from shaking as he watched Ripley crouch down eye level with his battered and abused Sgt. at Arms.

"If you ever touch me again without my permission I will gut you on the fucking spot. Do you understand me, _Old Man_?"

Tig just looked at her, eyes almost glazed over as he nodded ever so slightly. Ripley rolled her eyes, stretching to her full height before turning on her heel and pushing through the door, not even bothering to stop as she grabbed a flabbergasted Juice and Opie by their cuts and made her way towards her Chevelle. Grumbling and cussing about "selfish emotionally constipated assholes that needed to make up their goddamn minds" the whole time.

Gemma sighed, running to catch up with them to get the full details while Clay stepped further into the office, shaking his head before moving to shut the door. He sank to the floor in front of Tig, trying to keep a straight face.

"You wanna tell me what the hell just happened?"

* * *

Tig looked up, eyes focusing on Clay for the first time since the man had come in. He opened his mouth; ready to tell his President everything he could . . . But try as he might he couldn't find the words. He'd been so fucking pissed about Ripley's rejection-however false- that he hadn't thought. He'd grabbed her up and slammed his mouth against hers, trying to sear the taste of his lips into her flesh. That way _**any**_ man who tasted her after him would always taste him. Everything else had just progressed. Once his lips had hit hers, his hands had roamed freely while she'd threaded her fingers back into his hair, her short manicured nails scraping his scalp. Something he was now content to say he'd let her do for the rest of his life if she would.

And when he'd pushed his tongue into her mouth . . . He groaned letting his head fall back against the metal drawers behind him as Clay watched him. He was fucked. Royally and completely fucked. Because now . . . he knew she was as fucking sweet as he'd thought-dreamed-and she was never going to let him touch her again.

He opened his eyes, looking at Clay.

"I just royally fucked myself over . . . "

Tig closed his eyes again, trying to drown out Clay's sudden laughter as the man lit a cigar and passed it to him. Tig didn't hesitate, accepting the Cuban and taking long, hard draws from the tobacco before looking up at Clay. Who was just smiling and chuckling as he shook his head.

"Brother . . . there might be hope for you yet. C'mon, let's go get a drink and we'll go to Church. And have a nice long discussion about what you need to do next . . . and how to avoid another ass wiping."


	8. Chapter 8

Gemma passed Ripley the blunt, not bothering to mention that this was the third one they'd shared since they'd walked through the door of her home. They'd gone straight to the back porch, sat in the armchairs overlooking her gardens and lit up. The now empty bottle of Black Jack on the table between them-surrounded by more than few fallen beers- hadn't stood a chance in hell . . . but it sure had made the first joint seem incredibly long and sweet. Now, as they watched the fireflies drift aimlessly through the roses and hydrangea, Gemma knew she could finally get some answers to her questions. If she could only remember what the fuck they were . . .

"I kissed Tig . . ."

Gemma blinked, looking up to see Ripley take a swig of her latest beer. The girl had changed into a black tank top and a pair of jeans that were more hole than fabric, cuffing them to her calves. The straps of her bra were bright white against her skin and the dark lines of her tattoos . . . while her hair was down and this living mass of golden curls around her face and shoulders. She didn't look at Gemma as she spoke; keeping her kohl rimmed sea glass eyes trained on her gardens.

"Really? What was it like?"

Ripley smirked, blinking a little longer than she had before as she shrugged and took another swig of her drink. And Gemma had to catch herself. Though Ripley favored her mother heavily-almost to a point of being identical- she'd always had a very different personality from the outgoing and elegant Millennia. So much so that Gemma and Clay had always assumed she'd taken after her biological father- a cold and shrewd business man that had never laid eyes on his only daughter. An opinion justified by the fact Millennia had always worried that the man's legacy to Ripley wouldn't be _just_ her hair color . . . and her shocking intelligence. That she'd be as cold and unfeeling as he had been . . . But the look she had now, sitting on the porch and reminiscing about an earlier conquest . . . Gemma knew that Millie's fears had been unfounded. Because whatever of her father was in her, as of this moment she was the pure daughter of Ed Guadimus. Apparently, Ripley had taken a few things from her Pops after all.

"Like someone trying to devour you from the mouth down . . . and you love every fucking second of it."

Gemma laughed, taking the blunt back, pulling in another lungful as Ripley sank further into her chair. A few seconds later, the girl sighed, her head lulling to the side as he looked to Gemma with watery eyes.

"What do I do, Mama?"

Gemma sighed, sitting the joint in the ashtray before reaching out and grabbing Ripley's hand, twining their fingers together. They sat there, looking at one another for a long moment before Gemma made up her mind. She knew that most likely whatever would happen with Tig would go badly if it wasn't done correctly . . . but it was easy to see how strongly the two of them were drawn to each other. All this needed was some finesse . . . and some careful nudging in the right direction.

"Do you _**want**_ him, Baby?"

Ripley shrugged, turning to look back out at the garden. Her bottom lip drawn between straight white teeth as she worried it. A trait her mother had always hated because it left her lips almost constantly chapped.

"I don't know. I know I'm attracted to him. And I know that the sex would be amazing. If not a little fucking scary."

Gemma laughed, nodding in agreement. She swore she heard the sound of engines . . . but shook her head. She was just baked . . . and as Ripley continued, neither saw the two figures round the corner of the house. Or stop at the edge of the porch and listen.

"I just . . . I . . . _**Want**_ him. But I'm not changing for anybody. Never have and never will. My Old Man might not've been my _**real **_dad but he taught me a lot. And the biggest lesson was living a life you're happy with. And don't make one sided compromises."

Gemma nodded, draining her beer before standing. As she went to walk by Ripley, she dipped and kissed the crown of the girl's head before resting her forehead against her golden curls.

"Your Pops was a smart man, Baby girl. And he loved the fuck out of you. Just like I do. We'll figure it out, honey. Just let it work on itself. Now, do you want another beer?"

Ripley nodded, closing her eyes as she relaxed into the seat. Gemma sighed, straightening up and almost dropping the empty bottles when she noticed their company. Clay was leaning against one of the porch columns, arms crossed as he smirked at her shaking his head. Tig was, however, standing a good few feet behind him, almost in the shadows. But not enough that she couldn't see the bruise that had blossomed across his lower jaw.

She sighed, shaking her head before motioning them into the house. Clay followed while Tig glanced at Ripley, looking torn between staying and going. Clay smacked him, nodding his head in the girl's direction before ushering Gemma inside . . . and following her to the side window to eavesdrop. Because God knows these two needed damn chaperones . . . and SWAT team to break them apart should everything go wrong.

* * *

Ripley knew someone was standing in front of her . . . watching her. But for the life of her she just couldn't care. Her arms and legs were so loose and her head was so warm that she honestly didn't think she could've moved if she had to . . . so whoever was just going to have to deal with it. But she couldn't remember anybody but Gemma being here . . .

She felt a hand brush her bangs out of her face, tucking the wayward curls behind her ear . . . and she couldn't stop herself from leaning into the warmth of the touch. Or marveling at how, despite the obvious callouses and scars she felt, soft the skin was. She furrowed her brow, forcing her heavy eyes open . . . to see none other than Tig crouched before her, balanced on the balls of his feet as he looked at her. The bruising on his jaw looked painful . . . and she suddenly felt very bad for being responsible for it. She reached out, tracing the dark mark with her fingertips, barely touching the abused skin.

"Does that hurt?"

He shrugged, keeping his hand on her cheek as he smirked at her.

"Not _near_ as much as my pride, Doll."

She nodded once, closing her eyes before opening them again. She smiled at him apologetically as she shrugged.

"Sorry. I just don't like to be touched without permission. Personal space issues."

He nodded, drawing his hand back slowly before she caught it, deliberately keeping it near her cheek as she laid her face in his open palm. He let out a shuttering breath before brushing his thumb over her cheek . . . and she felt giddy. She knew this wasn't something this man did on a regular basis. She doubted he'd ever done it before period. Which is probably what spurned her to kiss right over his pulse point on his wrist before nuzzling back into the touch against her face.

Tig cursed, his fingers twitching as he fought to keep himself in check. She could not do shit like that or he wasn't going to be able to contain himself. Something about the mix of strong and vulnerable, fighter and bashfulness had him hyperaware of her and her touch . . . and seeing her so thoroughly relaxed was not helping. At all.

"Any reason for that, Babe? Or do you just like things to be on your terms?"

Ripley shrugged again, her smirk falling just a bit as she looked at him. For a second he was worried he'd crossed a line until she laughed. He shivered, loving and hating the way that throaty little chuckle of hers moved over him . . . seeming to make a straight shot to his now hardening cock.

"More just precaution than anything . . . never can be too careful. Especially with whom you allow in your bed. Right?"

He swallowed hard, knowing now she was far too gone to carry on the conversation he wanted to have if she'd just admitted that aloud. She might have a secret freak flag to fly-and God he was so he was reading all of these signs right and she did-but she was_ too_ fucking smart to have ever taken a risk like she'd just let on about. Even_** he**_ could see that. But he had to ask, now that she'd put it out there. And the words just seemed to fly from his lips on their own.

"And who do you let in your bed, Little Girl?"

She smirked at him, leaning forward until their cheeks were touching and her hair was shielding them from sight like a curtain as it fell over her shoulders and tickled his face and neck. He took a deep breath in before he could help himself, trying to place the scent she always wore . . . and groaning at her next words as she whispered them in his ear. He had to focus very hard to listen . . . as her lips brushed over his ear with every sweet fucking syllable.

"Do you want it to be _**you**_, Old Man? Or do you just **not** want it to be any of your Brothers?"

He struggled to keep himself under control, fighting to keep from grabbing her and taking her to the nearest flat surface to fuck into submission. That wouldn't accomplish what he wanted. And what he wanted was to see just how fucking far they could take one another. Be it a week or a lifetime. But when she bit his ear-ever so lightly- he felt his control waning. He was only fucking human.

"Can I touch you?"

She pulled back, confusion clear across her features as she blinked at him. She opened her mouth but he stopped her, asking again.

"You said earlier you'd gut me without permission. So can I touch you?"

* * *

Ripley nodded, going to open her mouth again to tell him how much of a smartass he was to ask that . . . only to have to remember to breathe when his mouth crashed over hers with enough force to push her back into her seat. Her arms, still heavy from the pot and the alcohol, wound around his shoulders on their own as his hands cupped her face to hold her to him. When she felt his tongue trace her lips, she parted them for him . . . loving the way he tasted as he thoroughly explored every centimeter of her mouth. God he was way too good with that tongue of his . . .

She shuddered, letting him pull her tighter against him as his hands slid from her cheek down her jaw to her neck. From there they passed down her shoulders, ghosting over her arms and the sides of her breasts before settling on her hips. When he pulled back, she knew her eyes were as lidded and her lips as kiss swollen as his were . . . but she really didn't know why that would be a bad thing anymore. He stood, pulling her to her feet with him before wrapping his arms around her.

She stretched up, meeting his lips as he bent to kiss her again. She smirked into his lips as she felt him press against her stomach, not bothering to hide her delighted chuckle as he shuddered when her fingertips grazed his denim clad erection. He pulled her hand away and she knew that was not normal. Especially for him . . . She pouted prettily up at him, kissing his neck as he kept her hands in his, laying his cheek against her curls as he groaned.

"We need to talk. Seriously talk . . ."

She nodded, working her way down his neck to his Adam's apple, tracing the bobbing flesh with her tongue as he spoke. She smiled against his skin as his breathing hitched . . . knowing she'd accomplished something big to get that kind of reaction from a sexual deviant like Tig . . .

"I'm not playing, Ripley. We have to-"

She bit his Adam's apple slightly, barely applying pressure with her blunt teeth as he tried to reprimand her. She found it funny that he would try to stave off a sexual encounter in favor of talking something out . . . and she was far too high and too much in need of him to even contemplate letting a conversation happen first. If tonight didn't lead them to anything else then so be it. But she wanted tonight. And she wasn't going to waste the opportunity now that it had arisen.

* * *

Clay shook his head, turning to Gemma as they watched the scene unfold on the other side of the pane glass. Gemma was smirking as her eyes moved over the two of them and he knew what she was thinking. Tig had always been loyal and a good friend to them. To the Club. And he adored Gemma in a way that had left Clay edgy until he noticed it wasn't sexual . . . well as nonsexual as the man got anyway. Gemma's voice brought him back to the present and out of his musings. And he was happy to hear the laughter in her voice.

"God . . . who would've ever thought that that sweet little thing would go for someone like our Tigger?"

Clay shrugged, looping his arms around her waist as he rested his chin in the curve of her neck. She leaned back, bringing her hands to rest over his, lightly rubbing his knuckles and rings as he held her. No matter what happened between them, Clay knew that he was lost without his Queen. Gemma was the rock and reason behind so much of what he did . . .

"How many people do you think thought the same about Guad and Millie, hm? Because they were a lot odder match to see. Ripley's a pathologist, you know? And can be cold when she has to . . . And Tig is a crazy motherfucker if there ever was one. But they seem to just . . . click with each other somehow. I just hope they stay clicked."

Gemma nodded, looking over at him.

"Amen, husband. Because if this goes bad . . . it's gonna tear a lot down doing it."

Clay nodded; knowing the logic there was sound. But he wasn't going to deny them this. Tig always put them and the Club first . . . and it was time for the Club to start taking care of him where he needed it.

"Ready to go, My Queen?"

She laughed, kissing his cheek.

"Anytime you are, Love. Let's leave the newlyweds alone . . . Think Tig'll ever get around to talking with her?"

Clay laughed, steering her towards the door.

"Probably sometime tomorrow when they get this shit out of their systems . . . meaning I probably just need to let him have tomorrow to sort this."

Gemma nodded, following him out.

* * *

Tig growled, his hips jerking into hers seemingly on their own as her teeth closed around his neck. He had never, in his countless sexual escapades, had a woman do that. And goddamn if it wasn't like liquid fire had started coursing through his veins. He groaned as she kissed the spot she'd just bitten, soothing the abused patch of skin with her tongue before beginning to work her way down to the edge of his shirt. The more contact her mouth had with his skin the harder it was to remember why he was trying to stop this . . . he wanted this. Badly.

When her hands hit his cut, tracing the patches almost reverently-stopping to kiss the Sgt at Arms- before she slid it off his shoulders and laid it- very carefully- in the chair he'd pulled her from he felt himself grow even harder. That simple little act of devotion and honoring his attachment to the Club-his place in their world- over_** this**_ was undeniably the single hottest thing she'd done yet. It topped the arguments, the quips and even the fights. It sealed it.

The sound of the door slamming brought him back into the Land of Reason . . . and brought his eyes up to meet Gemma's. Clay had already left the house, standing towards the edge of the porch. Dear Lord, when had he come outside?

Gemma cleared her throat, causing Ripley to turn and step away from him. And blush so severely he thought she would combust. Gemma however just laughed, pulling her into a hug. He watched as Gemma kissed Ripley's bangs before slinging her pocketbook over her shoulder and waving to him. He nodded, not trusting himself to move closer to Ripley to hug her before she left.

"Take care of _our _girl, Tigger. And Clay said not to worry about work tomorrow. If something comes up he'll give you a call. Other than that, consider yourself off."

She winked before crossing the porch to link her arm through Clay's, shaking her head and smacking him as they rounded the corner, talking quietly to one another as they disappeared into the darkness.

After a few moments, Tig sighed, looking back to Ripley as she looked to where Gemma and Clay had disappeared to . . . They needed to talk. Desperately.

"Do you work tomorrow, Doc?"

She blinked, turning to look at him for a moment before slowly shaking her head.

"I'm on call but the Coroner from Lodi is one the rotation for County tomorrow. Unless another girl pops up I'm in the clear . . ."

He raised a brow, stepping closer to her as she shifted from foot to foot uneasily. He hated that now, with the chemistry from before overshadowed by the Morrows departure, she had started to retreat back into herself and away from him. He reached out, pulling her into him as he rubbed her bare shoulders, trying to warm her enough to banish the goose bumps that had blossomed across her skin. She shivered, hesitating for a minute before stepping into him and letting him hold her. He smirked. He knew now that she was still pretty toasted-despite her sudden sobriety-to let him hold her like this without giving him a death glare or some skeptical look. Well, hopefully their talk would stop that from happening again.

But first, he needed to know why she seemed so worried about the other . . .

"You think there will be?"

* * *

Ripley shrugged, leaning her head against his chest and closing her eyes as she listened to his heartbeat. She knew-being a daughter of the First Sgt- just what it meant to serve the Club in that capacity. And Tig seemed to have almost no heart on most days. But here, pattering a bit faster than normal beneath her ear, was proof he did indeed possess one.

"No clue . . . I know that another body was found near Stockton that their forwarding the reports about. Apparently this isn't going to be a onetime thing . . .I just hope it isn't what I'm thinking it is."

Tig raised a brow at her, lifting her to face him by her chin as he dipped to look her face over. The darker his blue eyes go the more she was sure her worries were displayed clearly across her face.

"What do you think is going on Ripley . . .?"

She shuddered at the sound of her name from his lips. He always called her 'Little Girl' or Doc . . . or very rarely Doll. But he'd never called her name before. She had doubted he knew it. And to hear it was almost as nice as the feel of his hands as they slipped to hold her hips, bringing her flush against him. She swallowed, trying to collect her thoughts through the weed and alcohol and the lust.

"I think a killer has traded territories. It happens ever-so-often . . . and this is too methodical to be some random onetime deal. I just want it to stay out of Charming. I don't like this stuff too close to home . . . Look you said we needed to talk. About what?"

He smiled down at her, dipping to press his lips against hers. After a few seconds of eternity, his mouth moved and she was sure she'd lost all conscious thought again. Tongues met and danced as hands roamed and groped, desire burning through both of them as they stood on her back porch and just enjoyed the intimacy of the act. SAMCRO and everything else faded away until it was just them. Just his mouth on hers and their bodies pressed against one another . . .

Eventually, he pulled back his hand cupping her cheek as he rested his forehead against her bangs. She shuddered, her eyes locked onto his as his thumb caressed her cheek. The gentleness of the touch-the gesture itself-was not lost on her. Or the likelihood that he had done this for any of the other women that frequented his bed. Which is probably part of the reason she enjoyed it so fully.

"Us, Doc. We _definitely _need to talk about us . . ."


	9. Chapter 9

The sun shone brightly as late morning hit the little farmhouse on the outskirts of Charming . . . and Tig groaned, rolling over and away from the sunlight that flitted through the cheer curtains over the arched windows. Jesus, the sun was bright . . . He sighed, settling back into the plethora of pillows and covers, pulling the curved and warm body back into his chest and he drifted back to sleep. Only to bolt back awake as he realized that he was **not** in his own bed. And he definitely didn't usually wake up with anyone beside him. All of the Croweaters and sweet butts and the random pieces of pussy got used and sent on their way . . .

He looked down, actually surprised to see Ripley, nude and smiling softly in her sleep, cuddled against his chest. He reached out, barely pushing her curls out of her face. Slowly, the memories of the day before played through his brain as he settled back against the pile of pillows and the headboard. He shifted, watching her nuzzle deeper into him before settling back into a deep sleep. Dear God . . . they had actually . . .

He ran a hand over his face, waiting for the sense of dread to fall over him. And the mourning for all of his freedom slowly slipping away. But nothing came. Only a deep sense of relief and peace moved through him as he listened to the birds outside and Ripley's quiet, contented breathing as she dreamed against him. His hands found their way to her hair, slowly twirling the golden tresses over his fingers as he closed his eyes again. It had been so long since he'd done this, a normal morning after a truly amazing night of soul quaking sex that he was almost afraid it wasn't real. That any moment he'd wake up and be back in his apartment or at the Club.

Ripley sighed, bringing his eyes down to her. He had been totally right. The girl had a freak flag almost as big as his . . . though he could honestly say not anywhere near as perverse as some of the things he'd tried in his lifetime, she was not afraid of being open and downright kinky in the bedroom with him. And he knew that he would never find a more satisfying lay in his life. All of the confidence he'd seen peeking through in their arguments had been on display as he'd fucked her senseless, tempered with just enough of that sweet and tender side he'd felt when she'd tried to take care of him to drive him batshit crazy. He'd lost count of how many times they'd fucked-though that huge tub of hers was now one of his favorite places in the world-but he had savored every second.

And they'd agree to just let this happen and see where it went. No talk of Old Lady Status and ink, no huge plans of commitment other than what they wanted, and no jealous freak outs over Club norms. Tig had been surprised to hear the last . . . until she'd warned him that anything he could do she would do better. So every Croweater he bedded would be met with a man-or woman, and dear God he so wanted to explore that at least once- to match it. If he was fine with that so was she.

Tig had agreed last night, eager to bury his head back between her thighs and make her mewl in pleasure again . . . and now, in the light of day he knew he would keep to it. But he did not want anyone _**else**_ in this bed between her legs. The thought of her spread out calling anyone's name but his-and to hear her lust laden whispers of "Alex" had been a righteous religious experience all in their own- sent waves of cold, dark rage through him._** If**_ he fucked a Croweater, then she_** could**_ fuck whoever else she wanted. And he'd _**kill**_ the motherfucker afterwards . . .

He sighed, closing his eyes again. He might as well enjoy this comfortable bed and the feeling of her against him for as long as he could . . . because when she woke up, they were going to test out that shower of hers. Then they were going to eat.

* * *

Jax pulled into Ripley's driveway, glaring at the other black Dyna parked beside her Chevelle like it belonged there. He rolled his eyes, killing his engine before taking off his helmet. Opie pulled in beside him, eyeing the other bike with unveiled interest and disbelief. Ope had been there when Tig had pulled his craziness but he'd been oddly quiet about it. Then again as crazy as he'd been acting lately it shouldn't have been surprising. Donna's death had been a toll on him . . . and now he was pushing deeper and deeper into the Club to handle the loss. He knew Stahl had set them all up, played all of them for fools, and had been a bigger man than even Jax could've been if it'd been Tara.

He'd even talked with Tig after the Sgt at Arms had let him pretty much beat in his face. Jax shook his head, looking up to the house as he dug out the extra house key he'd yanked from his Mom. He might know Tig's loyalty to the Club was infinite but he did not want the man anywhere near Ripley if he could help it. Especially with the way he kept looking at her. The night in the morgue seemed like a lifetime ago but he'd seen the interest in Tig's eyes when Ripley had covered up the corpses and showed Opie where to sit. After that, he'd pretty much dismissed her, barely interacting with her at all . . . but his eyes gave him away. He watched her when she was at the Club and he always knew where she was. And, he always seemed to drown himself in beer and pussy when she wouldn't try to get him to speak after her initial greetings-in favor of talking with Juice or him and Opie. Like a jealous kid denied his favorite toy so someone else could play.

Jax sighed, motioning to the house as he started towards the door. He didn't care if the man was here to apologize or hand her twenty four carat gold key to the fucking Club. He was dragging Tig Trager out of his sister's house . . . or he was going to kill him.

* * *

Opie nodded to Jax, adjusting his beanie before following. Rolling his eyes. Clay had said to_ call_ Tig in, Trammel had another body and wanted them to see it before Lodi got there to fuck everything up . . . but when Gemma had let it slip that Tig had gone out there to apologize for the way the two had been with one another since the deal with the Long beach crew . . . Jax had flipped.

Clay had, of course, ordered him to stay out of it and let the two of them handle it like adults. And Opie had silently agreed. He would never fully condone Tig for what happened with Donna . . . but he understood the reasons behind it now that some of the pain had landed and settled. He loved SAMCRO. Just like the others did . . . and Stahl had decided to play a dangerous game with dangerous men. And his Donna paid the price for it. Tig had just been trying to protect the Club, Clay and all of the others by following orders . . . and the emotional breakdown the man seemed to have suffered for the past few months had helped him see that maybe there was more to the Sgt. At Arms than a cold killing machine.

Well, that and the way he kept going on with Ripley. It was the closest Opie had seen to the old Tig in nine months . . . and they only saw it when she was around. But of course, Jax wasn't going to let that go. He felt too responsible for the girl to let her and Tig get too close. Even if it was what she wanted. And Opie knew, from the sideway glances and tiny blushes that it was. He personally was wondering just how long it would take them to realize it.

He sighed, watching Jax unlock the door and start looking around. Nothing looked out of place in the living room and dining room. The only oddity was Tig's cut carefully folded and lay on the largest sofa just by the door. Jax turned back, brow raised as Opie shrugged. It wasn't uncommon for them to shed a cut in the house of a friend . . . but where _were_ they?

A quick inspection of the downstairs showed that, while the office was slightly messy and papers were scattered all over the floor, nothing else was wrong. Jax stepped out back, coming back in with a clearly confused look on his face.

"There's no one out back . . ."

Opie shrugged again, a little worried as they looked to the closed bathroom door. Ripley could be upstairs and Tig could be behind that door. Jax stepped forward, tapping on the white door before pushing it open. They could hear the faintest sounds of running water but the bathroom was empty. Both men looked up before sharing a look and heading for the steps.

* * *

As they climbed the steps, taking two and three at a time, Jax pulled his gun from his pants. Clicking the safety off and chambering a round as he ducked low to the wooden stairs before moving out and into the seating are. The area was half the size of the den downstairs and carpeted, with the white couch. The window let the sun stream in and bask the room in warmth and light . . . illuminating it to show no Tig and no Ripley. Jax knew Ripley preferred to sit and do minor casework up here rather than in her office . . .

Opie moved around him, going to the slightly open bedroom door and nudging it open to peek inside. He bed was unmade and a few dark clothes were on the floor closest to the bathroom. But no signs of struggle or any trouble. Just steam and light billowing out from under the closed bathroom door. Opie sighed, shaking his head as he moved to open the door . . . only to shut it almost as quickly as he'd opened it.

Jax looked at him, eyes narrowed.

"What? Is she in there?"

Opie nodded then shrugged mouth open and moving but no sound coming out. Jax, finally frustrated pushed past him and opened the door wide. And thought he was about to die.

Ripley's massive shower was indeed going and she was in it. But she was _**far **_from alone. There, behind the slightly fogged and dripping glass of the shower stall, was Tig, buried between Ripley's spread legs as he thrust into her fast and hard. Ripley's legs were wrapped around his waist, resting on his hips as her head lulled back against the tile. Tig's mouth was working furiously over the exposed flesh of her neck, leaving a trail of angry red bites that Jax could see from across the room. But each pass of his teeth and thrust of his hips brought another little mewl from Ripley's parted lips. Just like each movement of her hands or arch of her back brought these animalistic growls from the Sgt. At Arms.

Jax closed his eyes, opening them again to see not only was this _very_ real but that Tig's mouth had moved from her neck up her jaw to assault her lips. Jax turned, all but fleeing the room and shutting the door hard. Opie had slid to the floor and his shoulders were shaking as he covered his eyes with his hands. This was not good. This was not good at all.

* * *

Opie had come to his senses, biting back his laughter and accepting the fact that he owed Chibs $500, before dragging Jax down the steps and into Ripley's kitchen. He knew that seeing them like that had been shocking . . . but with the way Tig had reacted over the boost and then to Juice's lunch proposal . . . what had they expected? The man was a stone cold killer . . . not a fucking idiot. And that's exactly what he would have to be to ignore or reject Ripley's interest. Especially when he wholeheartedly returned it.

Opie crossed to the fridge, grabbing a beer and opening it draining half before he got another for Jax. He closed his eyes, trying to ward off the sight that was burned there. He might've seen this coming but he in no way ever wanted to see it in the flesh. Ripley was like a sister to him-always had been-and despite the crush Jax had on her when they were eight, he knew his longtime friend felt the same. And though Opie was okay with what was happening-as okay as he got anyway-he could see from Jax's darkening face that he wasn't. At all.

Jax hopped up on the counter, taking long drinks from his beer before looking to Opie with this hang-dog look. Oh Lord . . . here it comes.

"What in the fuck was that?"

Opie shrugged, taking another drink as they heard the water above them stop. He idly wondered if they even knew they had company before smirking. If they didn't this was going to be fun to watch. He turned to Jax, schooling his face to a neutral expression before deciding to have some fun at his best friend's expense. Jax really did need to lighten up about all of this . . . if Clay and Gemma were cool then he needed to go ahead and get on board.

"Fucking from what I could see, Brother. And apparently very good fucking at that."

Jax glowered, opening his mouth to rebut his friend as they heard footfalls on the steps. Opie smirked, pushing off to meet Ripley as she walked into the kitchen, clad only in a very short white cotton robe. The front was loosely tied, allowing a large portion of her chest and neck to be seen . . . as well as very conspicuous bruise on her collarbone that looked an awful lot like teeth marks. Her hair was damp, already curling as it dried. Her face was practically glowing while her flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips just made her seem even more sated. She looked up, jumping as she noticed them in her kitchen before pulling her robe tighter around her. Her cheeks turned crimson as her hands went to cover the mark exposed near her shoulder.

"What are you guys doing here? Is something wrong?"

Jax fumed, stepping closer as Ripley actually took a step back. This was not what needed to happen here.

"What are we doing, Rip? Christ. What are you doing! What the hell are you thinking?"

Opie shook his head, going to step around Jax as Tig rounded the corner into the kitchen.

"Hey Babe? You know where my shirt went? I see the Cut but no damn shirt-"

Dressed only in his jeans with a towel around his shoulders. And very self-satisfied grin on his lips. He stopped short as he saw them, then the smirk turned smug, almost overly cocky as he reached out and pulled Ripley back against him. His chin rested in the curve of her shoulder, his eyes locking solely on Jax as he kissed the hand over the spot he'd bitten before. His left hand splayed across her belly, holding her flush against him as his other came up and hooked under her crossed arms, resting right over her heart. And playing ever-so-slightly with the front of the robe she was wearing.

"Morning boys. What's up?"

* * *

Tig knew he had heard the door open when he'd been in the shower with Ripley . . . but he couldn't stop himself as she came around him. He'd finished up, coating her womb with his seed before he'd rinsed them both of and helped her out of the shower. And he'd set her on her counter and proceeded to lick away every last drop of her own orgasm. Which had led to another . . . by time he'd remembered why he'd cut their shower time delight short his face was glistening from her juices and she was gasping for breath so hard he knew she needed to rest. Poor baby had gone from the time he'd finally woke her up until now. And though he knew she would let him fuck her till his hearts content . . . he wanted her to savor every second. Besides, he was definitely hungry from something besides her tasty little snatch. Best to save that for desert anyway.

He'd pulled her down, kissing her soundly and having to keep himself in check when she didn't shy away. One thing he'd learned was that she was not afraid to kiss him after he gone down on her . . . a definite turn on. One that apparently came from the odd girlfriend she'd take occasionally. As he'd grabbed his jeans from the bedroom, he'd turned to see her slide a short little robe over her shoulders and tie it loosely before she started trying to towel dry her curls. Tig hadn't been able to help standing and watching her, amazed at the beauty and grace she practically oozed as she worked whatever girly hair shit through her tresses. When she grabbed a lotion bottle however, he'd been quick to sling his jeans up and come investigate.

He watched as she smoothed the lotion over her skin, inhaling deeply as she worked it into the abused flesh of her neck. It wasn't a perfume that smelled like that . . . it was her fucking body lotion. Oh God, he would smell like that later . . . his dick was going to _stay_ hard . . .

"What is that?"

She'd turned, brow raised before showing him, letting him sniff the stuff. Black currant, patchouli and amber with white lily and pomegranate. No wonder he and the boys hadn't been able to place it. He dipped, kissing the skin lightly as she giggled, trying to get away as he ran his nose over her pulse point. He liked the smell of it in the bottle . . . but he loved the smell of it on her. Finally, she sighed, sinking back into his arms as he held her. When Tig looked up and caught their reflection in the mirror he was shocked. He and his ex-wife had always looked at odds-even when they got along. Both of them were too dark and too harsh around the edges-though in different ways- to ever blend well. Even family pictures ended up looking like a warzone. But Ripley fit against him and was just enough his opposite to look at home in his grasp. Their light colored eyes made both seem darker, though she was paler by far . . . making her seem delicate with her overly feminine features and curves and golden blonde curls. He smirked against her skin. She was his for the time being and he would savor the perks he saw reflected back to him in the glass.

He kissed her again, pulling a tiny bit of skin in his teeth and tugging, earning him a gasp and a jerk of her hips. His girl loved to bite . . . a good thing since he was partial to it himself.

"Let's go get something to eat . . . okay Doll?"

She nodded, leaning over to nip at his jaw. God she was too quick a study for him to hide anything.

"Sure. My jeans are downstairs in the dryer . . . and I have some tees that need to be put away. I'll go grab them and get dressed. Where do you want to go?"

He shrugged, letting her go and heading towards his phone and wallet.

"Doesn't matter, Babe. So long as you're happy and we can come back and keep going."

Ripley laughed, shaking her head.

"Well then, I'll put on my boots and we can just take your bike, Tigger. Maybe go for a ride . . ."

He nodded, looking for his keys. That sounded very promising . . . especially since he knew a secluded place where they could get in a little outdoors fun if he played his cards right. He heard her leave as he spotted his keys. But when he reached to get them, his phone vibrated. He stood up, checking the screen and grimacing. Great, just what he needed. The Harpy. She must've felt his joy and wanted to suck it away.

He answered, knowing not to would only cause strife he didn't need. Especially with the girls wanting to visit.

"Yes Allison?"

"_Well you finally answer. I've only called you seven times since last night, Alex. And why aren't you at work? Stupid bitch Gemma said you took a personal day."_

Tig rolled his eyes, willing thoughts of Ripley's legs around his waist into his head to calm himself. If this kept up, he'd go find her and see if she would blow him again while he talked . . . he shuddered. Damn the girl really _**did**_ know her way around a cock.

"I needed to take care of some things. The girls still coming down in a few weeks?"

Her irritable sigh made his heart stop. Before her words sent him into a frenzy. He'd kill the fucking bitch if he saw her too soon.

"_Yes, Alex. They are. Actually that's why I'm calling. Paul is taking me on a three week cruise and the girls are __**going**__ to stay with you. They refuse to stay with their Aunt."_

Tig's mind went into overdrive. Jesus. His home was small, barely big enough for him. The girls were going to take his room while he'd taken the couch-same as they always did-but for three weeks? He'd go crazy or lame from sleeping on the couch. God the fucking bitch just didn't think sometimes. He growled, nodding as he spoke. He wouldn't disagree or he wouldn't get to see them. It's just the type of game Allison loved to play. And had before.

"That's fine. I'll make sure everything is ready. Anything else?"

She snorted, causing the urge to choke her to death to rise again.

"_No, Alex. Nothing else. Just be ready. I'm dropping them off in two weeks."_

And with that the line went dead. Oh if he ever got to hit that woman he'd kill her . . . He growled, shoving the phone in his pocket before doing the same with his keys. Fuck this. He needed to go eat. Then get back to this monster bed and see just what all his new little lover would actually do.

When Tig had come down the steps, he knew Ripley knew where his shirt ended up. The damn girl had savaged it off of him on their way through to her office. He shuddered, smirking. He knew they wouldn't make it up stairs and the couches just screamed teenage fuck fest. But bending her over that desk, scattering paper everywhere had been the brightest idea he'd had so far. And it crossed off one of the things he'd always wanted to do. Now he just needed to get her to wear one of her skirts and those glasses of hers. With a nice pair of shiny leather stilettos. He grinned, knowing what he was going to ask for when they got back.

He spotted his Cut, his smile softening as he remembered her picking it up and laying it on the couch on their way further into her house. God he'd found a good one. She knew what the Club meant and respected it. Almost more than even himself or Gemma. And she was his.

He crossed through her dining room, eyeing the table with a critical eye. It might support both of their weight but it was the perfect height to spread her across . . . He shook his head, chuckling. He felt like a damn teenager again. Maybe they _**would**_ give her couches a go_. And_ the back seat of her Chevelle.

"Hey Babe? You know where my shirt went? I see the Cut but no damn shirt-"

Tig stopped as he saw Jax and Opie, then felt his blood boil at Jax's look. Ripley took a step back and he pulled her into him, never taking his eyes off of Jax or letting the smile fall from his lips. The boy already had his own damn Doctor . . . and he needed to leave his alone. Tig leaned down to place his chin in the soft bend of Ripley's neck, loving the way she relaxed against him as he kissed the hand over the spot he'd bitten before. His left hand splayed across her belly, holding her flush against him as his other came up and hooked under her crossed arms, resting right over her heart. And playing ever-so-slightly with the front of the robe she was wearing.

"Morning boys. What's up?"

Jax's eyes darkened but Opie stepped forward, keeping the peace.

"Clay sent us. Trammel called. He found another girl. This one is worse than the first."

Ripley stiffened in his hold as Tig nodded, slowly rubbing her belly as he ran his check against her neck. He leaned in, whispering to her as he hugged her tighter.

"It'll be fine, Girl. We'll take care of it . . ." He looked up, speaking louder as he went to let her go.

"Go ahead and get dressed. After Trammel puts in the call you know they'll be calling you."

She nodded, shaking her head and grumbling as she turned to go and get ready.

"Yeah. So much for eating . . ."

Tig chuckled, watching her slip into her laundry room with a smile. But the second the door closed, he rounded on Jax. The VP glared back, eyes blazing as they stared at one another. "Enjoy the show earlier boys?"

"What the fuck are you doing, Tig? Huh? She isn't a Croweater or a sweet butt. She's family."

Tig huffed, smirking as he glared.

"Oh I know what she is, Jackie Boy. And I know how to handle it. Just leave it the fuck alone."

Jax growled, stepping closer.

"I won't let you hurt her."

Tig's smirk fell and from the look on Opie's face he knew that he had what Happy called his 'Killah' look. He stepped in closer, toe-to-toe with Jax as he glared at the boy. Clay wasn't going to have to kill him. He was.

"You say anything to her, Teller, anything that might even possibly make her doubt or worry and I will fucking destroy you. I'm not going to hurt her . . . but you are the one with a bad habit of fucking over the ones you try to protect."

Jax huffed; neither noticing Ripley stepping out of her laundry room in a pair of men's styled charcoal trousers and fitted black turtleneck with ¾ length sleeves, gray alligator heels in hand.

"Yeah? Well at least I'm not the one who has a habit of killing Old Ladies . . . or running 'em off and into the crack dens."

* * *

Ripley had never seen anyone glare as coldly at someone as Tig glared at Jax. His fists balled so tight his rings were cutting into his skin, causing blood to drip onto her floor. But he didn't take the swing. She stepped forward, ignoring Opie's warning glance as she came to stand in front of Jax. She didn't look to Tig, knowing his face was set in the same mask he'd worn around her since she'd moved. And after last night she didn't want to see it again. Jax looked down at her . . . and balked when she caught him straight in the lips with a hard upper cut. When he staggered she followed through with a hard left hook, knocking him flat on his ass.

Opie didn't move, looking torn between laughter and shock . . . and she didn't dare turn to Tig. Not yet. He needed to hear this first. She shook her hand, glaring down at Jax.

"Jackson Teller, you are like a brother to me. And I love you to absolute fucking death. But if you ever talk to him like that again-even if I'm not here- then I will beat you to a bloody pulp."

Jax glared up at her, struggling to stand.

"So that's it? One night and you're all gaga over him? Jesus Ripley do you know what he _does_? What he's _**done**_?"

She shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulders.

"He's killed, Jax. In the name of SAMCRO and his brothers. And probably his own demons. _Just_ like my old man did. My dad was a good man, a good Son. And Tig hasn't done anything that my dad wouldn't have. Including following a direct order to assassinate an apparent traitor for the good of everyone else. Opie and I have talked about it, Jax. The hit went bad and things got jumbled. And it was a call your Old Man would've made just as easy as Clay did. Or Piney if it'd been the other way around. Because-at the time-it was for the good of the Club. And as for the rest, I don't give a fuck. I'm not perfect _either_ Jax. And I'm **not **a fucking kid. So while I appreciate the concern . . . stay the fuck out of my life if all you're going to do is be self-righteous."

Jax glared turning and storming out. Opie sighed, hugging her and nodding to Tig before he followed. As he got to the door he stopped, calling over his shoulder.

"I know you're right, Rip. And so does he. That's one reason why he's so pissy about it. I don't think he could've made the call . . . I **know** I couldn't have. We'll go ahead. You guys follow when you're ready."

She nodded, turning to see Tig still staring at the door. She sighed, stepping closer until she laid her hand on his bare chest. His eyes cut to hers as his brows furrowed. After a few moments he chuckled, dipping to kiss her forehead.

"It's so easy to forget sometimes that you're the daughter of a Sgt . . . I guess you really do know what to expect, huh?"

She nodded, closing her eyes as he pulled her into his chest.

"My Pops did some hard shit for John . . . and later Clay. He never talked to Mom or Khail much about it but . . . I've always been detached about certain stuff, you know? Mom swore I took it from my biological father. Things that were messy and bloody didn't bother me so long as I could see reason to it. And when Pops needed to_ talk_, I'd _listen_. I think he was afraid Mom wouldn't love him the same if she knew . . . but_** I**_ loved him just the same. Same as with Piney, Bobby, Clay and John."

She looked up, kissing beneath his chin before continuing.

"I _see_ the reason behind the bloodshed. Behind the **way** of the MC. Jax just . . . John always kept it hidden from him. Piney did from Ope too until he was older. Hell, until they were thirteen neither even knew their dads knew how to hold a gun, let alone shoot one. At thirteen I knew how to dissemble and clean a Desert Eagle blindfolded and reassemble it in less than five minutes. Not to mention shoot it."

Tig smirked, kissing her bangs again, just leaving his lips pressed against her hair.

"Remind me to never piss you off. Don't want to get shot again. Hurts like a bitch."

She snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Hate to tell you this Baby. But I shoot to kill. None of that winging bullshit Tara wanted Gemma to teach her."

He drew back, eyes narrowed as he looked her over. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he realized just _**what**_ had always been so at odds about her. She moved so fluidly and seemed so damn fragile and indestructible at once. And now he had an idea why.

"Your Pops_ taught_ you to fight. To shoot and to ride too, right?"

She nodded, shrugging.

"He teach you to _**kill **_too Baby Girl?"

She cut her eyes to his, looking him over very carefully before shrugging her shoulders once and turning to grab her car keys from their spot on the wall.

"You ever ink me and I'll tell you the whole of it . . . But let's just say that there's a shallow grave near Lodi that I helped dig and fill."

Tig caught her arm, spinning her back to him suddenly very interested in what she was saying. And incredibly turned on by it. He knew he was fucked up . . . A woman who would stand up for him was hot . . . but a woman who knew how to kill-and would without hesitation-for him was worth every drop of ink and blood he'd spill to put the Crow on her.

"Who's grave?"

She smirked, turning to go towards the front door.

"The man who raped and killed my mother."


	10. Chapter 10

Ripley knelt beside what was left of the girl, pulling her white latex gloves on as she leaned closer. Tig had ridden with her, promising Clay he would stay with her until she was done regardless of her protests. Which was turning out to be a good thing for her sanity. They'd stopped by his apartment long enough for him to grab a black button down shirt to toss over his black tee . . . and even with his cut in her car, folded and secured in the backseat, he looked just threatening enough to keep the Lodi workers at arm's length. Which suited her just fine. Fucking idiots had already tried to screw this up and they'd only been there a few minutes.

When she and Tig had met Opie and Clay-Jax having already left to go whine to Gemma about the ass wiping she gave him-Trammel had called in and reported the murder. So she was technically the first to respond and therefore in charge. A small favor for the case. The Lodi coroner had almost puked on the last poor victim . . . and she hadn't been exposed to the elements for over five weeks like this one had been.

There was barely any soft tissue left on the corpse and, had it not been for the bone and anthropological markers, she would've been hard pressed to determine sex, race and age. As it stood, she was surmising that this girl was age 21 to 25, Caucasian and female . . . with long blonde hair and similar small caliber gunshot wounds to the head and throat as the other. What worried her was the degree of mutilation. The cuts were deeper and much more ragged, not the fluid and almost precise incisions from before. If she was reading this right then this girl, though found second, was actually an earlier victim . . . something that would mean trouble in not only identifying her but linking her to the other case.

Defense attorneys and Prosecutors alike had this pesky habit of wanting everything to be textbook identical to link murders together . . . and unfortunately it meant her literally combing through a haystack to find a proverbial needle that may or may not exist. She sighed, reaching out and light the lower mandible . . . only to have it nearly break off in her grasp. The bones were extremely brittle . . .

She heard a gagging noise and looked up in time to see the Lodi Assistant Coroner dart to the far bushes, hand covering his mouth as he barely made it. She rolled her eyes, motioning for the other tech to bring her a larger evidence bag for the jewelry around the neck. The poor kid looked as green as the others . . . and she could _not_ understand why. This was gruesome but not the worst she'd ever seen. The girl in the fridge was far worse . . . and that was only ranked at about halfway up her list.

She turned, looking to see Tig propped against her car, arms crossed and sunglasses on . . . but she knew he was watching her. She nodded to him slightly and he smirked, dipping his glasses enough to wink at her before flicking them back into place. She smirked, turning back to the corpse. She had to admit, the fact that he wasn't gagging and puking beside the others was actually kind of a relief. He might be able to stomach some of the things she had to do for work . . .

She turned back, waving over Trammel. The man kept glancing back at Tig . . . but made his way to her very quickly. When the tech left to take the bag, he crouched and waited.

"I need all of this bagged and sent to the Coroner's office. I'll have to look at it and see if I can match the bullet wounds via x ray before I turn anything over to Lodi. They'll probably just _**puke**_ on it all anyway . . . "

Trammel chuckled, nodding as he glanced back at Tig. He had shifted and was leaning even heavier against the car, head tilted back as he basked in the sunlight. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation and not at a horribly disturbing crime scene. And for some reason, Ripley felt _bad_ that she was relieved at that. Trammel's voice broke her from her thoughts, bringing her back to the present.

"Any reason _**he's**_ hanging around, Doc?"

Ripley shrugged, looking down to see something move beneath the ribcage. She reached to her kit, pulling out a pair of forceps and carefully removed the flap of remaining tissue. Trammel started to go ashen as he watched so she decided to talk . . . no need in having another person start puking. Seriously, these people dealt with death all damn day . . . shouldn't they have stronger nerves or stomachs?

"We were going to eat when I got the call, Sheriff. Other than that, I think he just wants to keep an eye on me. Why? He making you nervous?"

Trammel shook his head, tugging at his collar. And then looked on in grossed out awe as she pulled a large maggot from the decaying chest cavity.

"No . . . actually makes me feel better. Trager's a crazy motherfucker. I know no one's gonna fuck with him . . . but why in the world would you want to eat with _him_?"

Ripley turned, putting the maggot in the container before smiling a bit bashfully at Trammel. She would tell Tig later-mainly because he would probably enjoy it as much as she did- but she just wanted to see the look on this guy's face when she did this. It would make having to postpone food and sex a bit less harrowing.

"He's my boyfriend, Sheriff. . . Why wouldn't I want him to eat with me?"

Trammel looked back up at Tig before shaking his head. He stood, dusting his knees.

"No reason at all . . . I'll tell the boys to leave you alone and stop with all of the pickup lines. Last thing I need is a pissed off Son trying to kill everyone. Jesus . . . sweet little thing like you with him. What's the attraction?"

Ripley grinned, winking as she stood and shed her gloves. The others should be able to handle getting the rest while she made her way to the Charming ME office . . . after she dropped Tig at TM.

"He's great in the sack, Sheriff. Really fucking great."

* * *

Tig watched awed as he sat on the empty autopsy slab, swinging his feet as Ripley examined the bones . . . and picked more maggots out of the carcass. She'd been steadily ignoring him after he refused to go back to the garage, focusing solely on her work while he watched. He knew he probably should've just done as she asked . . . but he'd been interested in seeing her work before. And now, with everything up in the air between them, he needed to see if that would hold true. Besides, he was twisted enough to admit that sitting in the morgue with her was probably one of the hottest things he'd seen. She wasn't even the slightest bit squeamish about her work . . . Plus, he had never seen anyone do what she was doing, but it was one of the grossest things he'd ever heard of. Which was saying a lot.

"And you're _really_ going to put them in a blender and grind them down?"

She nodded, dropping a particularly fat larvae in the container with the others. She already written out a good chunk of her analysis and made notes on the things she needed to check after the test results came back. Doing this was the last thing they had to do before leaving . . . and she acted like it was nothing. Just like she had with scraping beneath what was left of the nails and scraping around the teeth . . .

"Why exactly are you going to make a maggot smoothie?"

She didn't look up, but she answered him.

"To allow me to run the tests I'd usually run on the soft tissue and organs. Maggots eat the flesh so if there are any poisons, toxins, hard metals, chemicals or even alcohol we'll be able to tell. It's a relatively common thing for a forensic entomologist and chemical engineer to suggest . . . plus the others I got will be able to tell us the time of death. After everything is sent to the SBI labs of course. Which will take 72 hours at least. Where do you want to eat?"

Tig shook his head, watching her as she straightened and started putting away tools and sealing up samples. The body went back in the drawer and, after she made her last notes, she shed her coat and gloves. She turned, walking back to stand right in front of him . . . and he suddenly had a very wicked idea to make sure she didn't stay mad at him. He smirked down at her, pulling her flush against him as he slid to stand. His mouth hit hers, working in a fevered pace as his hands un-tucked her shirt and caressed her skin. She shivered, pulling back as his hands dipped into her pants . . . and he groaned when he felt the lace and silk.

"What color are they?"

She smirked up at him, kissing his chin up to his ear.

"They're black lace with slate blue ribbon . . . and you can see them _**after**_ we eat. Now I-"

He scooped her up, depositing her on the table behind her and very quickly began working on the clasps to her pants. She smacked him as he got them undone and started to pull them down over her hips, revealing the black and blue cheeky panties. God she was never going to wear clothes unless they had to go out . . . he liked her too much nude and in the various bits of lingerie she seemed to own. She pushed against him as he whipped the pants off and tossed them on the other table, exposing her to him.

"_**TIG!**_ You can't do this here! I **work** here . . . what if someone comes in?"

He looked up, eyes dark with lust before turning and going to the door. He turned the lock, checking the hall through the gridded glass to make sure no one was outside before crossing back to her. He smirked as she glared at him, cheeks flushed and breathing hard. And just as excited as he was . . . He knelt in front of her, nuzzling her lace clad mound with his nose before looking back up at her.

"Come for me once, Baby Girl and we'll go . . . But you look so fucking **hot** doing this. I just want this, please. I promise we'll go."

She opened her mouth to yell at him again but he pushed her panties aside, running his tongue over her lips before pushing against them and finding her clit. Her fingers curled into his hair and the only thing she did after that was mewl and beg for him.

* * *

Ripley was sure her cheeks were never going to go back to their normal color. She shifted in the seat of the diner, trying to ignore the smug man beside her. Tig had surprised her at the morgue, but she wasn't above saying she'd enjoyed it. Especially when he decided that he didn't want to wait to get home before he tried to bury himself within her permanently. She was never going to think about work the same way again . . . She shivered and he looked down at her, pulling her closer to him as he rubbed her shoulder and arm.

"You cold Doll?"

She nodded, leaning into him as they waited for their food. Today was definitely holding some surprises . . . the biggest one being that her new whatever could _**not**_ watch her work. Another little quirk he had . . . she felt his phone go off in his jeans and watched him grumble and reach for it. He glanced at the screen and groaned out loud. She raised a brow, looking at the faceplate.

It read _Harpy._

He blushed; honest to goodness blushed as he stumbled over his words.

"Um . . . ex-wife?"

She nodded, suddenly understanding a bit more of Jax's rampage earlier. He silenced the phone, nodding to the waitress as she brought their food. Tig kept eyeing her steak like it was going to get up mooing and run away . . . she'd only ordered it medium rare.

"You two not get along?"

He snorted, cutting into his own steak a bit forcefully.

"Yeah. We get on _**great**_ . . . the only thing we ever did right was the twins. And I swear she fucked that up."

Ripley nodded, looking to him to explain. She knew he had kids, Clay and Bobby had said something about them coming to see him sometime soon. And she _liked_ kids . . . she just didn't always understand them. Tig sighed, explaining as he took another bite.

"The girls are fourteen and I barely get to see them. Usually only when she wants to go shack up or get high or whatever. Fucking cunt. And _she's_ supposedly better for them than I am. I'm just thankful Dawn and Fawn don't seem to have either of our issues."

Ripley, who had been taking a drink of her cherry coke sputtered, spraying the empty side of the both as she choked. Tig patted her back, trying to help her with this worried look on his face. When she could breathe again she looked at him, trying not to laugh.

"_Dawn_ and _Fawn_? _**Seriously**_?"

Tig glowered before rolling his eyes.

"Yeah I know. They hate it too. It's what happens when you let a drugged out hippy wannabe name two twin girls on twilight sleep . . ."

Ripley couldn't help it, she laughed. When she saw he was glaring she reached over and kissed his cheek . . . before stealing one of his potatoes.

* * *

Hours later, Tig was spread out across Ripley's bed with her draped over his chest, sleeping soundly. He was sated and happy and wanted to do nothing more than laid here and enjoy the moment. Ripley had, after laughing and stealing his food, asked him questions about the girls, curious to know about them without being overly nosey. When he'd offered to let her meet them when they were in town she'd agreed, offering to keep them entertained while he worked when she was off.

He sighed, looking down at her as she snuggled into him. He had never been one to cuddle but she made it pretty easy to like. She just scooted up to him and laid there, all peaceful and content without constantly looking for more. And when she would sleep she would nuzzle him with her nose as she dreamed, sighing contentedly before settling back in. He ran his hand down her spine, tracing the curve of her back and the swell of her hips before slowly coming back up. He knew this was odd, especially for him, but he was enjoying the actual closeness Ripley seemed to cultivate in her sexual life. Something he'd lacked for a long time . . .

He shifted, looking back up at the ceiling to where the TV was mounted. Clever little minx had hidden the damn thing in plain sight . . . and it was so nice to watch TV without the crick in his neck. He just hoped the girls liked her . . . that they didn't hate her automatically like they did every man their mother brought home . . . though he couldn't really blame them there. As his eyes drifted closed, he couldn't help but wonder how well this meeting was going to go . . . especially with them having to share his room while he crashed on the couch for three weeks. He would definitely be napping over here . . .


	11. Chapter 11

_Okay, so I just want to throw a few things out here for a few questions I've been getting. First off this story is AU. Though you're going to see things that did happen in the series they might not occur in the same order or even close to when they did in canon. The only reason for that is that I had to rearrange some things to make this more realistic . . . and to move the story where I need it to go. So if you notice things happening out of sequence or being a bit weirder than they were . . . you're not crazy and I promise it will all make sense eventually. And yes, Ripley is bi and she is very serious about her deal with Tig. She's as odd as he is about some things . . . so that's going to be a lot of fun. And the girls will be making a pretty big appearance later. i like the idea of them as twins (mainly to justify their matching names) so we're running with that. And i've got them in at about 14 so . . .  
_

* * *

Ripley rolled, trying to get comfortable in her big empty bed. She growled, fluffing another pillow before finally giving up and flopping back into the mounds of down and cotton. She was so not going to sit here and not sleep because Tig wasn't here. So what if he'd pretty much taken to staying here every night he wasn't at the Clubhouse . . . and so what he was at Bobby's homecoming party. Surrounded by Croweaters and Sweet Butts. Big deal. She groaned, rolling again and burying her face in the nearest pillow and screamed. She was so not going to be fucking Tara.

Tara had come to Gemma and complained about Jax's involvement with Cara Cara. While Ripley herself couldn't really see much of a problem with it-so long as he wasn't fucking a porn star then really what did it matter if he was there- she could understand being upset with the way the little cum-diva Ima acted. Tara had come a long way from when she'd first stepped back into everyone's lives . . . and Gemma seemed to be warming to her as she'd sat and listened, dolling out advice and what would happen if it wasn't followed . . . but Ripley herself still didn't really trust her.

They'd been good friends when they were younger and suddenly Tara had freaked and left. Taking huge chunks of Jax with her as she ran as hard as she could. Now she was back . . . but she still seemed to want to keep the chunks she'd taken with her . . . Ripley knew something was up with them, that something big had happened to force them back together so suddenly and extremely . . . but she loved Jax and Gemma enough not to pry. Even if he was acting like a little prick over Tig. At least when she'd left the Club after talking to Clay earlier they were all laughing and drinking.

Maybe she should've taken up Bobby's invitation and stayed . . . She shook her head. She knew what happened at homecomings and while she was no pansy or prude about sex and normal debauchery . . . she so did not want to see the reason her father had always called Bobby and Cunt Hound. She shook her head again, trying to banish that image. The man was like family and she did not want that image at all.

Sighing to herself, she tossed the covers back and got up, heading to her closet to grab clothes. She was going to the morgue and going to finish her back logged paperwork so she could actually enjoy her few days off in two weeks . . . and not be swamped with work to catch up on. It wasn't like she was going to sleep anyway . . .

* * *

Ripley had dressed appropriately for the chilly weather . . . and for the ride she was going to take. Her Pops had been adamant about her learning to ride when she'd turned eighteen and nowadays she was lucky to get a few hours in a month. She'd ridden pretty frequently in Long Beach-easier to park the modified Harley Fat Boy than the Chevelle- but since she'd been in Charming she just hadn't had the desire. She rode with Jax, Ope and Tig enough now that she didn't see the need. But tonight she wanted to ride . . .

Her hair was pulled into a low knot at the base of her skull, her bangs pinned back away from her face. The torn dark washed blue jeans and worn gray leather calf riding boots were more for comfort than anything else, though she knew Gemma would be after the boots for the criss crossing leather straps and studded detailing. She'd shrugged into a long sleeved black shirt, the sleeves coming to stop right above her second knuckle while the hem of the shirt stopped right at her thighs. The shirt was fitted but it would keep her warm . . . Especially under the faded gray leather motorcycle jacket. The high collar and the interior of the jacket was lined with charcoal silk covered down while the small bronze zippers and studs matched the boots . . . and the belt she'd thrown on over the shirt to sit low on her hips.

She opened her garage, moving to the back and slowly uncovering the black Harley. Her and her Pops had found it in a scrap yard when she was fifteen . . . and they'd worked to rebuild it up until he'd passed away. The '79 Fat Boy had been modified for a rider her size and weight and though she could ride the Dynas like the others she preferred her baby. The gleaming black body was pristine, the metallic black paint at home against all of the chrome detailing. Small charcoal pin lines swirled over the casing, coming together to form a filigreed frame the customized Harley Davidson logo. The body shop in Long Beach that had finished the detailing had actually custom cut the chrome logo to go with the designs on the bike, and the paint around it seemed to have small pieces of lace falling from the filigree. Her Pops would love what she'd done to the bike's body and the motor- the tune ups, the completely new '79 engine she'd found crated at a dealership, and the ape hangers as well as the slightly extended frame- but her mother would've loved the paint.

She sighed, shaking her head as she tossed her leg over the black leather seat. That had been the first thing she'd done . . . have a new, more comfortable and streamline seat put on. She didn't know how Bobby stood his . . . She turned the key, loving the deep rumble she got when she hit the throttle. A quick kick and her kickstand was up and she was pulling out and into her back yard. She sat there, balancing the bike for a second as she slid her glasses on before she looked up and just enjoyed the night. She'd always loved riding at night . . . something she'd learned from her Pops. But tonight the air seemed different. She shivered, shaking her head as she pulled around slowly and hit her driveway.

It was probably just her imagination . . . As she hit the access road; she smirked, checking quickly before pealing out and into the empty road. She opened her up, hugging to the curving and snaking roadway while she laughed. She felt her hair flipping and turning in the wind, and knew it would be a pain to contend with when she got home, but she didn't care. Right now, she was just happy to be free.

* * *

Tara walked in the living room of the Morrow's home, carrying the supplies she'd taken from the hospital tightly against her. When Sheriff Unser had called and told her to meet him at Gemma and Clay's she'd freaked. But Gemma had pleaded with her to come . . . so there was no saying no. But now, as she saw her, she knew she needed to get the woman to the hospital. Her cheek looked broken while her face was covered in blood and dirt . . . and the way she kept pulling the blanket tighter around herself told Tara more than either of the others had. Gemma had been hurt. Badly.

She sat, trying to clean the wounds and talk since into her but Gemma refused, claiming she was not going to let the whole world know what had happened. Tara sighed, standing and going into the other room. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and scrolled through the contacts. Jax had programmed this number into her phone and she'd thought he was crazy . . . but now she was thankful he had. Because this was probably the only person who could help her get Gemma the care she needed . . . if they would answer the phone.

* * *

Ripley looked up from the mess of paperwork, cursing as she tossed a whole file across the desk. These idiots were worse than the ones she'd left! Did no one understand the importance of proper book keeping and filing? She sighed, leaning back and propping her feet up on the desk, pinching the bridge of her nose above her glasses. She hated this shit. She was going to have to hire a damned secretary just to keep up with the others bullshit.

Her phone came to life, dancing across the desk as a number she didn't know flashed across the screen. She rolled her eyes, going to ignore it . . . before she remembered that sometimes Tig called from the different prepaids they kept for Club business. She sighed, picking up the phone and opening it.

"What?"

"_Uh . . . Ripley?"_

Ripley stopped, raising a brow before closing her eyes. Well now she knew not to answer that number again. It was fucking Tara.

"What is it Tara? It's almost three o'clock in the morning . . ."

"_I know . . . but Gemma's been hurt and she won't go to the hospital. I hate to bother you but I need help. She needs to be seen."_

Ripley felt her heart stop. Something had happened to Gem. Dear God . . . She stood grabbing her keys and her jacket, scribbling out a note as she spoke.

"Where are you?"

The relieved sigh told her just how bad this was . . .

"_At Gemma's house. It was the only place she'd let Unser bring her . . . Ripley she's been messed up pretty bad-"_

"I'll see when I get there. I'm in town so I'll see you in a few seconds. Tell Unser to put in a call to leave a black bike alone when it runs through every fucking light in Charming."

* * *

Ripley parked the bike beside the Sheriff's car, barely hearing the kickstand hit the pavement as she shot off of the bike and towards the house. Tara met her at the door, holding it open for her and closing it after she slipped in. Gemma was wrapped up on the couch, her cheek still bleeding as she looked up to see her. Shock and fury flashed across her face as she turned to Tara.

"Jesus Christ. Why did you call her? She doesn't need to see this . . ."

Tara went to speak but Ripley stepped forward, glaring down at Gemma as the Queen of SAMCRO glared at the doctor behind her.

"I'm glad she called, Gemma. Jesus . . . why aren't you at the hospital? You need to be seen . . . not sitting here."

Gemma glared up at her as she glared back down. Ripley was aware that Tara was moving behind her, trying to stay out of the line while Unser just looked between them. Finally, Gemma sighed, shaking her head and looked down at her hands.

"Tig see you leave?"

Ripley huffed, dropping to the coffee table in front of her godmother, taking her hands in her own as she brushed her bangs out of her face. The bruising to her cheek was pretty severe . . . the cut actually a break in the skin from the swelling. It was more than likely broken.

"He's was still at the Club when I left to go to work. Had paperwork to finish . . . I called him and left a message I was at the morgue so . . . he comes by and I'm gone won't be too bad."

Gemma nodded . . . and before anyone could react had wrapped herself around Ripley. Who just held her and petted her hair. Gemma didn't cry, just clung to her goddaughter as she tried not to shake.

"I'm so sorry, Chaos honey."

Ripley shook her head, hugging her tighter. She knew now that her godmother was in shock . . . pretty standard for what she was beginning to suspect had happened but it could still be dangerous. They needed to get her to the hospital and seen. Now.

"Why, Mama? Why are you sorry?"

* * *

Gemma shook her head, burying deeper into Ripley's arms. She hated to be this. To be so weak and so fucking fragile. This did not help SAMCRO. It didn't help Clay or Jax. And it sure as fuck didn't help Ripley . . . but she couldn't stop herself from clinging to the girl. Ripley knew from her own life how deadly this could be. She'd seen Ed go crazier and crazier until he'd finally accepted Millie's death . . . She did not need to see the only family she had left fall apart.

Gemma pulled back, cupping Ripley's face. She needed her to be strong . . . They all did. Those bastards were not going to tear her family apart. Not if she could help it.

"You don't need to be here. I didn't call you because you've already seen this, Baby. I don't want you to see it again . . ."

Ripley, the little brat, rolled her eyes and leaned her forehead against her own, shaking her head.

"Mama . . . I'm a big girl now. Let me help you. I promise I won't break if you let me bare some of this. You need to let me-let us-help you. You can't do it alone. And you're right . . . I have been here. But you survived Gemma. She didn't. Let me help it stay that way . . . Okay?"

Gemma nodded, closing her eyes to keep the tears at bay. The girl was too hard headed and strong. No wonder Tig had taken to her so fucking well. But she couldn't let them know . . . if the Club knew then they won.

"I can't be seen. Everyone will know. **No** one can know . . ."

Tara stepped forward, kneeling beside them. Gemma would've laughed at the way the two kept shooting glances to each other if she hadn't hurt so damn bad. Or been so cold. Only something like this could get Ripley and Tara in a room together without Ripley ignoring her and Tara trying to highbrow to compensate for being alienated.

"I can take care of that. Do a rape kit under a different name . . . The other injuries we can cover. . ."

"Won't you get in trouble?"

Tara smiled, reaching out and squeezing Gemma's hand.

"Let us worry about that . . . we still need to explain the rest though . . ."

Ripley glanced up at Unser and Gemma knew the girl had figured out a way to sell all of this to the others. Unser stood straighter, listening. The coldness had come back to Ripley's voice as she spoke but her grip never loosened.

"A car accident. At a considerable speed, the facial injuries would happen while the . . . stiffness could be explained away because of the impact and whiplash. Can you take care of that end?"

Unser nodded, getting Gemma's keys from the table.

"Yeah . . . I can do that. I'll meet you girls at St. Thomas . . . take care of her, okay?"

Ripley and Tara nodded and Gemma suddenly felt like maybe, despite all of this shit that they could do this. Ripley would kill for her and Tara had just said she would lie and steal. Together they could keep this secret right where it needed to be. Between them.

* * *

Tig watched as Clay paced before finally sitting down in one of the waiting room chairs. Unser had found them at the meet with Leroy . . . told them Gemma had been in a bad wreck. For the life of him, Tig couldn't understand why they hadn't been called earlier but Unser swore he'd gone to find them to tell them personally. Tara Knowles was treating Gemma, a fact that didn't sit well with him for some reason. He knew about all of the drama between the Doc and Jax . . . but while he honestly didn't have a problem with her he knew that there was bad blood between her and Rip. And Ripley seemed pretty capable of getting along with just about everyone. He smirked. _Except puking forensic techs._

He turned, looking up to see Chibs, Juice and Sack wheel Bobby down the hall on a gurney. He stifled a laugh. Bobby was still royally fucked from last night . . . but he'd deserved it. He'd gone away for two months because of the shit with Stahl and the ATF . . . but now he was out. He chuckled as Bobby sat up, in a daze.

"How's Gemma?"

Clay smiled, shaking his head.

"Better than you, Bobby."

Tig shook his head, propping up against the waiting room door as Clay turned to him.

"You been able to reach Rip yet?"

Tig's smirk fell as the others looked on expectantly. Great, just remind him that not only did he not know _where_ his girl was but that he was going to have to own up to the deal he'd made her. Which was _totally _unfair. If she'd just **stayed **he could've just worked her over all night and not the blonde little sweet butt he'd thrown in the floor. He dug in his pocket, pulling out his regular cell. Still no calls or messages . . . other than the one she left him at one.

"She had to go in last night around one so she's probably asleep and turned the damn phone off again."

Bobby laughed weakly from his spot on the gurney as Clay chuckled.

"Girl always did love to sleep. Ed hated having to get her up for school and shit. Only way he could when she was younger was to promise to take her on the bike."

They all laughed as Tig rolled his eyes. It was still odd to hear some of their memories about the girl he had literally fucked on almost every surface of both their homes, their vehicles and the damn Club. It was like hearing about a completely different person . . . but not. Thankfully, Juice opened his mouth and proved useful for once.

"Speaking of bikes. You guys see that Fat Boy outside?"

Chibs nodded, punching Bobby in the side.

"Yeah Bobby. Looks a lot like yours . . . minus ten years of rust and it looks to actually run. Custom job too. _Very _nice."

They all laughed, enjoying Bobby's good natured grumbling until a knock on the doorframe brought them out of it. Tig felt his heart stop as he saw Juice and Sack stand up a bit straighter. Tara was standing there, in full scrubs and talking to Clay, telling him Gemma could see him. But behind her, in a pair of painted on torn jeans and long black shirt was Ripley. Her hair was down and wild, save her bangs pinned up in a pomp and her face was clean, showcasing her freckles and her tan. She moved, nodding to Tara and Tig had to swallow a groan. She had on a pair of faded gray leather riding boots that stopped right below her knee, adorned with criss crossed straps and little studs and buckles . . . and a cropped gray leather motorcycle jacket that fit her like a second skin. That, coupled with the belt slung low around her hips . . . God; she was so going to model just the boots, belt and jacket for him one day . . .

Ripley stopped, hugging Clay as he went to go see Gemma. She stretched up and kissed his cheek, squeezing him before letting him go.

"She looks a lot better now . . . just be_ easy_ with her, okay? She's real shaken up about this . . ."

Clay nodded, kissing Ripley's forehead before going to follow Tara, Jax trailing behind them. Ripley sighed, shaking her head as she spotted Bobby. She reached down and very gently pushed his hair out of his face. He opened glazed eyes and, after recognizing her, smiled.

"Hey Baby Girl. We were just talking about you. When'd you get here?"

Ripley smiled, trying not to laugh at the slight lisp to his words. He was still plastered.

"Tara called me and asked to come sit with Gem while Unser tried to find you guys . . . You're head hurt yet?"

Bobby laughed, moving to sit up before groaning and falling back down clutching his forehead when she thumped him hard. The others laughed while Tig just kept looking at her.

"Oh God you are evil just like your Pops! He used to do that shit to me all the fucking time!"

She shrugged, moving away to go stand beside Tig.

"Yeah well you should expect it. I have strict orders to keep you in line, Bobby." She turned, looking up at Tig. His own eyes had slight bags under them . . . and his shirt smelled a lot like alcohol and . . . she leaned in, sniffing lightly before rolling her eyes at him and giving him a deadpan look. Tig just looked down at her almost dazed until she flicked his chest. Right over the Sgt at Arms patch. He jumped, covering the spot she'd hit before realizing what she'd figured out. His cheeks flushed ever-so-slightly as he reached out and pulled her into him, leaning to whisper in her ear.

"Missed you last night . . ."

Ripley huffed, turning to lean her back against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her waist and draped the other over her shoulder and chest. He laid his cheek against her neck, kissing a spot before he looked over to talk to Chibs. She wasn't stupid. She would let him have his pride in front of his friends. But she was serious. He didn't want to share her with anyone else than she sure as hell wasn't sharing him. Not within the Charming city limits. Runs were one thing. What happened on runs stayed on runs . . . But this was different. This was at home.

He leaned in, whispering to her as the others pushed Bobby back down the hall.

"You pissed at me, Little Girl?"

She shrugged, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

"Nope. We have a deal. Just don't be pissed when I fulfill my part of it."

He growled, pulling her tighter, making her laugh. He buried his face back into her neck, kissing up to her ear loudly causing her to giggle and squirm. He didn't know how much she needed that right now . . . just for him to make her laugh. But his words brought a flash of heat through her veins that made her knees go weak. She was suddenly very ready to go . . . and if it were anyone else but Gemma she would.

"Can't fulfill your part if I don't let you out of bed can you?"

She groaned, smacking him just in time for Jax and Tara to walk back into the waiting room. Tig didn't care as his mouth run back down her neck, nipping and sucking as she laughed. Jax rolled his eyes while Tara smiled at the two of them.

"Jesus do you have to do that here?"

* * *

Ripley opened her mouth but never got the chance to say anything as Tara smacked him for being pissy. Jax turned eyes wide as Tig stilled behind her. Both Sons _knew _that this was an oddity for the odd girl Jax was dating.

"What? You think it's cool for him to do that while we're waiting to see if my Mom's okay?"

Tara however just crossed her arms and gave Jax one of the most deadpan looks Ripley had ever seen before rolling her eyes at him.

"_She's _been here since early this morning, Jax. She knew what was going on way before you did . . . and she's been back there with your Mom since she got here. Because she actually answers her phone _**even**_ when she is at work. And yes, I think its fine that he's holding her when she's upset. Maybe you could take a lesson from him and Clay about that. You don't always have to be a dick to be a badass."

Jax gaped as Tig buried his face in her hair, biting into the back of her jacket to keep from laughing while Ripley willed herself not to scream. If she only knew . . . Tara turned to Ripley, smiling again.

"Gemma is going to be a while . . . and Clay's going to stay a bit. I'll take her home later if you need to go and get some stuff done. I know we called you out of work."

Ripley smirked, reaching back and pinching Tig hard as he choked back another wave of laughter. Tara looked about ready to join him . . .

"That's the good thing about the dead Tara. They stay where you left them and they don't bitch about a time frame. But I do need to go home and shower, maybe eat. Just call me when she's ready to leave and if she wants, I'll come get her."

Tara nodded, huffing at Jax and walking away, leaving him to stare after her. Finally the temptation became too great and Tig busted out laughing. Just in time for the others to come barreling around the corner with Bobby . . . and run smack into Jax when Juice couldn't stop in time. Ripley shook her head.

It was like a daycare center for wayward homicidal idiots.

* * *

Half Sack watched Tig as he walked out with Ripley, his arm slung over her shoulder and keeping her tight against him. He would've never guessed that Tig of all people would enjoy the constraints of a normal relationship . . . but as he watched the two of them it was pretty obvious they both enjoyed it. He smirked. Maybe now with Tig's time pretty much occupied the Croweaters and Sweet Butts would have more time for him and Juice. He got pretty good as a Prospect but Tig, Happy and Chibs seemed to get the best ass . . . well and Jax before he'd gotten back with Tara.

He sighed, shaking his head before he noticed something. He'd looked for Ripley's Chevelle earlier. He and Juice both had. They'd been eager to have someone to talk to and joke with if the air got too heavy. But he hadn't seen it then and he didn't see it now. Had she ridden here with Tara?

Juice seemed to notice as well, looking to Ripley as she rolled her eyes at Bobby as he leaned heavily against Chibs.

"Uh, Rip? Where's your car? Are you gonna need a ride back?"

Ripley turned, raising a brow at him before turning back to Bobby shaking her head with a small smile.

"I rode here, Juice. I'm cool."

Juice however wasn't going to be ignored and, dragging Sack along with him, waltzed right into the conversation. Tig shook his head at them, probably already aware of whatever, but seemed pretty interested in what would happen. Chibs and Bobby were both listening as she explained about meeting Tara at the hospital . . . and finally Sack saw Juice was about to die. He was bouncing from one foot to another as he waited for her finish talking. Ripley rolled her eyes skyward and turned to him, motioning for him to ask whatever was so important as Chibs chuckled.

"But what did you drive? Your Chevelle isn't here. Do you have another car? Why haven't we seen it?"

Ripley turned to Tig who raised his hands chuckling.

"Hey, kids gotta point. Your car isn't here . . . and yes he is always like this after a party."

Juice nodded, bouncing as Chibs laughed and nudged Ripley. Sack however just shook his head. He was the immature one?

"So how are ya getting' home then lass? Your boy here takin' ya for a ride?"

They all laughed as Bobby smacked him while Tig just preened at the attention . . . until Ripley rolled her eyes and walked away from them. Juice and Chibs both called out to her as Bobby glared at Tig.

"Oh c'mon girlie! We were just havin' a bit o' fun. No need to leave! We're all goin' ta eat."

"Yeah, Ripley. C'mon. We'll take you to get your car."

* * *

Ripley rolled her eyes as she crossed the lot to her bike, shaking her head. As she got closer, she pulled her hair elastic from her wrist and gathered her curls at the base of her skull, pulling into a messy bun. When she got to her bike, pulled up the seat, digging out her aviators and sticking them in her curls and stowing her helmet before closing the compartment. It was a short ride to the diner so she wouldn't need it. She mounted the bike, resting one foot on the prop as she worked to fix her collar and make sure her hair would stay up before leaning back and enjoying the sunlight. It was too pretty of a day to follow such a shitty night.

She sighed, looking over at the now quiet group of boys she'd come from and flipped her glasses down over her eyes. She quickly cranked the bike and brought the engine roaring to life before she flipped the kickstand up and pulled out of the spot. She stopped right in front of them, looking over her glasses at them.

Bobby was smiling while Juice kept looking over the bike, almost drooling. Sack stepped closer walking around it while Chibs was ribbing Tig. Who just looked at her like she was a completely different person. She rolled her eyes, turning to look at Sack as he asked her a question. Tig_ knew_ she rode . . . it wasn't her fault no one thought to ask her if she had a bike.

"She's beautiful, Ripley. What year?"

"79. Pops and I rebuilt her from a total heap back when I was younger. I don't ride her much anymore but last night was clear and perfect. Too good to pass up, you know?"

Sack nodded, stooping down to look at the logo on the side.

"The paint job is awesome. I've never seen one like this . . . or with that logo. Custom cut?"

She nodded again, smiling at Sack as he blushed under the weight of the others stares. This was one of the reasons she liked Sack so well. He was a sweet kid and wanted to learn everything he could . . . but he was respectful. Her Pops would've liked him too.

"Yeah. A shop in Long Beach did it for me to go with the design of the bike. They tried to get me to have rims cut but it was just too much, you know? I wanted a custom bike . . . not a freaking show on wheels. So, you guys ready to go eat? Or was that just to make me feel better about having to ride bitch?"

Chibs laughed, slapping Tig hard on the back as he moved to get to his own bike with Juice. Poor Sack would have to drive Bobby in the van if they could get him to it. When the others were all getting ready, Tig stepped closer, looking over the bike appreciatively. Finally he looked up to her.

"She really is beautiful Doll. Why didn't you tell me you had her?"

Ripley shrugged, dropping the kickstand. Tig stepped closer, laying his hand on her jean clad thigh.

"It really just hasn't come up. I really don't get to ride her much anymore . . . besides, my dad and I put her back to rights. It's . . . odd to bring her out here and he's not here to see her."

Tig nodded, bending to catch her lips with his own. The kiss was something else . . . even if she could taste the night before.

"You taste like Croweater weed and booze, Tigger."

He smirked, his cheeks darkening as he ran a hand further up her thigh, squeezing as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"I guess I'll stop by the house and change then, huh? You going home after we eat?"

She nodded, rubbing her nose across his. He smiled, shaking his head before he did the same thing. They were so freaking odd.

"For a while. I'll probably go with Gemma later to see Abel . . ." She stopped, unsure of what to say or how to do this . . . before deciding to just play it off like a feeling. As much as she wanted to she wasn't going to tell Tig about what had happened to Gemma. It would kill her . . . and she couldn't do that.

"Promise me you'll keep an eye on her at work, okay? She's really shaken up about this and . . . She's like a mom to me, you know? I don't want anything else happening to her."

* * *

Tig nodded, pulling her around to sit side saddle on the bike and reaching out to kill the engine. He pulled her close to him, not caring about the fact that Chibs had pulled up beside them or that Sack was waiting behind them. He held her, running his hands over her back and thigh as he looked her in the eye.

"I swear on my patch, Baby. I'll take care of her . . . Okay?"

She nodded, kissing him softly on the lips. He smiled at her, loving the smile he got in return. That was his smile. The sweet little lift of lip that was innocent and unbelievably fucking sexy all at once.

"Okay. Ready to go eat?"

He nodded, pulling back with a wink.

"You know it, Baby. And then we can go home and get desert."

Ripley rolled her eyes, swinging her leg back over her bike and bringing the engine back to it roaring glory. The kickstand went up and she was off, Chibs keeping pace with her as they made their way to the diner. Juice waited with him to get his bike, waiting until they were alone to talk.

"You really like her don't you?"

Tig shrugged, straightening his jacket under his cut before getting on the bike.

"Yeah . . . why?"

Juice shrugged, turning to look to where the others had vanished from. He suddenly seemed so much older and wiser than the little goofy Patch in from a few minutes before.

"Just never thought I'd see it, you know? I mean, she's nothing like us and yet she fits with it . . . It's just weird how much she fits with you too."

Tig smirked, cranking his bike.

"Brother, she is one of us. Her Pops made my place . . . She's just as much SAMCRO as the rest of us. She's just a hell of a lot nicer to look at."

Juice smiled, nodding.

"Amen to that, Brother. Amen to that. And she looks so much nicer on a bike too . . ."

Tig groaned, gunning it and leaving Juice to trail. God he hadn't needed that reminder. After they ate, they were finally going for that ride . . .


	12. Chapter 12

Ripley lounged against Tig's chest, her ear pressed against his heart as they dozed beneath the shade of the massive willow tree. He'd gone by his apartment to change after they'd eaten, showering and brushing his teeth before coming back to the house in fresh jeans and a long sleeved black tee shirt and leather riding jacket under his cut. He'd begged her to keep the same clothes on . . . and had pouted when she told him no. Only to perk again as she came back downstairs, dressed to go riding with him. Apparently, he was just as content with the cropped toffee leather members only aviator jacket over the tight white tee shirt and dark washed skinny jeans tucked into the toffee leather riding boots as he had been with the gray leather.

As soon as she'd come down the steps, he'd told her to grab an old blanket and get ready to go . . . and now she was glad she'd just listened for once. He'd rolled the blanket tight, strapping it to the back of his bike before asking if she was riding or following. She'd smiled, climbing on the back of his bike and flipping her sunglasses down in place when he'd cranked the bike. He'd handed her the extra helmet and they'd set off.

She loved riding with Tig, especially when he was relaxed like today. He was fluid on the bike, moving with the road instead of against it. The best way to be. When they'd gotten out in the middle of nowhere, he pulled off the rough asphalt onto gravel sideroad she'd barely seen, working slowly until he came to a grove of willow trees that were probably older than the town of Charming. He'd pulled off into the grass, parking the bike next to one of the smaller trees before dismounting and grabbing the blanket, spreading it out under the largest tree furthest from the road. They'd both shed their respective boots and she'd laughed for a good five minutes at the sight of their boots propped against the tree, her smaller brown leaned against his darker scuffed black.

Now as they lay there together, she could barely see the bike or the small gravel straight away . . . but she didn't have to wonder why as she felt his hands trace small circles on her hips. She sighed, looking up to see his eyes were still closed and his lips were barely spread in a small smile. She kissed the are above his heart, causing him to look at her.

"What's on your mind, Tigger?"

He shrugged, the hand on her hip stilling as his other came up to brush her hair out of her face, ghosting over her cheek before he laid his head back against the flannel blanket.

"Just trying to figure out where the girls are going to stay for three weeks."

She nodded, watching him. One thing she knew about Tig was that, despite whatever his brothers thought, he adored his daughters. He didn't talk about them much because it was a raw spot with him that he didn't get to have them in his life like he wanted . . . so to protect them and him he shut out the side of him that missed them terribly until he was with them. She smiled. She'd seen him on the phone with them, the way his eyes lit up. It was the same way her Pops had been with her and Khail. And that Clay was when he and Jax weren't at each other's throats.

"When do they get into town?"

He sighed, propping himself up on an elbow as he looked at her. She knew he didn't want to talk about it but he needed to. Besides, two heads could wrap around a problem better than one.

"A few days . . . why? You know some secret pathologist magic to make my apartment sprout another room?"

She rolled her eyes, smacking him in the chest. But he was right. His apartment was perfect for him and how little he was actually there . . . but with the twins-fourteen year old twins at that-coming to visit . . . he needed at least another bedroom and bathroom. Too bad they couldn't just . . .

She looked up at him, an idea forming in his head and she knew it would work. Just like she also knew he would hate it. But still . . . maybe she could help him learn to love it.

"Well . . . I don't know any pathologist magic to sprout new bedrooms. But I have an office I really don't use and space upstairs to relocate it to . . . leaving an empty bedroom beside a full furnished a female friendly bathroom. If you wanted to hear about it . . ."

* * *

Tig sat up straighter, brow raised as he looked down at Ripley. She must be joking . . . but by the look on her face she wasn't she was dead serious. Okay he'd bite . . . He scooted back, propping against the tree trunk as she stretched back out, head in his lap. His hands started playing in her curls, carefully tugging trough the knots riding had left as he leaned his head back, still looking down at her. When she blushed he nodded.

"I'm listening . . ."

She sighed, smiling up at him before laying out what had crossed that crazy odd brain of hers.

"Well, I don't use the office any at all. I mean I did at first but now I just do everything upstairs in the sitting area. And the bay window area is big enough for my desk. So I could move the stuff up there and store the rest that I can't make fit. And I could go to my mom and dad's storage and see what they've got. I mean, my mom was an interior designer. She kept everything . . . I could redo the room for the twins and when they're in town, you could all just stay with me . . . if you don't think it's crazy."

Tig blinked, shaking his head. She was offering to rearrange her whole damn house, her life for him so he wouldn't have to sleep on the couch? She took his silence as a bad thing and started rambling. Which had to be the cutest thing she'd ever done.

"Well, I know the room will hold two double beds, a dresser and small side table because that's how it was set up when my mom and dad bought it. I think I still have the bedframes in the attic . . . Mom didn't want to part with them because they were white powder coated rod iron with these little bird cages made into the headboards. They'd need to be cleaned and repainted but I could do that in a few hours and I know I have enough furniture to fill the rest so-"

He cut her off, dipping down and locking his mouth over hers. She froze before melting into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kissed her. Never pulling away from her, he moved them until he was settled over her, between her legs as his hands ran up her sides and found the clasps to her jeans. Her hands were already at his belt, working the buckle loose and fighting with the button before he pushed her away and undid it for her. As soon as she could, her hand was in his jeans and had him a firm grip, making moan against her lips as she started stroking him.

Her jeans were down quickly and tossed to the side as his fingers pushed aside the white lace thong and sought out her clit. A few hard passes and he had her practically seeping as her hips jerked into his hand. He moved, letting her pull him out of his pants and guide him into her, both groaning at the feeling. God she was so wet . . .

When he started moving, he kept a slower pace than normal, moving his mouth over hers and down her chin to her neck before coming back up. She gripped his shoulders, cling to him as he brought one of her legs up to wrap around his waist.

"Alex . . ."

For some reason he knew that this was changing from what they'd set out for it to be but he didn't care. As she came around him, he didn't see a problem with her welcoming him-his children-into her home without doubts or reservations. And as he buried himself to the hilt in her, coming undone so unexpectedly as she kissed him lightly on the lips, he knew as he deepened it that he wouldn't be able to just walk away from her like he had Allison. He'd loved Allie once-with as much of his heart as he could give her- but it was never enough. She hated SAMCRO, hated his life but loved he was the bad boy. Ripley wanted him, SAMCRO and all. The bad boy was just a perk to her. As his head dropped to her chest, he knew he was in trouble. Because all he could think of for the first few minutes his cheek touched the spot over her heart, was that his ink would look fucking wonderful nestled over her left breast. He needed to talk to Clay today . . . but first he was going to go and see exactly what his girl wanted to do with her house.

* * *

Ripley watched Tig eye the upstairs loft space critically before nodding. She rolled her eyes. She knew the desk would fit there . . . its where she'd originally wanted to put it. But she hadn't wanted to make a guest room that would never get used. So she made an office that never got used.

Tig turned, looking her over before heading downstairs to the office. She knew that something between them was different now . . . she'd 've had to been blind deaf and dumb not pick up on it with their little tryst in the woods. And it should scare her but it didn't. Sex with Tig had never been slow and sweet . . . which was part of what she'd liked. Slow usually meant he was saving up the energy to fuck her until she couldn't walk straight. Which had happened a few times on her days off, making her thankful she was on the weird four on/three off, four off/three on rotation at the morgue.

But today, after she'd offered she'd thought he was mad and would refuse . . . until he'd pretty much stripped her. And while she wouldn't honestly call what happened out there slow and gentle, it had definitely been sweet. He'd sent over the edge with his little touches and his deep kisses far faster than he usually did . . . and when she'd reached up and kissed him he'd let go, flooding her senses with his kiss and sending her straight back into oblivion. They'd laid there for what seemed like forever, only moving when he rolled them to where she was on top.

And they'd talked for almost two hours, until the sun had started to set behind the trees. He told her he'd see about the other, look to see if it'd work and then he'd make a decision. But he wanted her to know he appreciated the offer. And then he moved flipping her on her stomach and pulling her to her knees. And had licked every last bit of their combined pleasure of her skin. Before he'd slipped right back into her and repeated the whole process all over again.

She shivered, pulling the sweater she'd donned when they got home a bit tighter around her. The second time had been more like their usually sexual endeavors . . . but even it seemed a bit different. Something about the way he held her and spoke to her seemed more personal than it had been before. Like he'd finally let go of whatever had been holding him back and just decided to let it happen.

She sighed, slipping down the stairs and down the hall to find him standing in the office, looking down at the desk. She came to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his shoulder. She knew, as his hand came and linked with hers that she was in far too deep to escape unscathed now. But, as his fingers danced over hers before he brought them to his lips to kiss she knew she didn't want to escape. She was happy here, with him. And she would be for as long as he let her keep him.

"Think it'll work?"

He glanced back, nodding before he turned in her hold, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her tight.

"Only if you want it to. I don't want you to think you have to do-"

She reached up, pressing her fingers against his lips. He stopped, nipping at them before letting her talk.

"I want to, Alex. I would offer for any member of SAMCRO . . . but I want to for you. You love your girls, Tig. And I know that, I can see it. And if this lets you see them-comfortably without making them feel unwanted-then I'm all for it. Besides."

She leaned in, letting him press her flush against him as she smirked up at him. He grinned down, his hands going to her hips to pull them into his own, causing her to roll her eyes.

"Besides what, Baby?"

She stretched, kissing him lightly.

"I have an ulterior motive. It seems that I sleep so much better when I have my Tigger in bed beside me . . . when he actually lets me sleep that is."

* * *

Tig grinned down at her, loving the way hearing that had made him feel. He'd called Clay while she was upstairs, telling him he would be by later to talk. And having her like this, with him, just made it easier for him to go talk. His girl wanted him, wanted his kids . . . that was a big deal. And Tig knew it. He dipped kissing her before pulling back.

"Really? You want me to start letting you sleep more?"

She glared at him, smacking him hard.

"Don't you dare. Besides, you can't run around if don't let you leave the bed can you?"

He stilled. He'd forgotten with everything going on about the deal they had. Before he would've gone crazy to see her look at anyone else . . . but now, with whatever this was surfacing he knew he'd kill another man.

"Are you? I mean, I reneged on our deal and-"

She leaned up and kissed him, long and sweet on the lips before going to pull back.

"Lets do this then . . . anything before today that's slightly unpleasant we forget. Meaning that was a get out pussy jail free card, Tiggy. But from now on, Croweaters and Sweet Butts had better stay contained to runs. Live it up on the road but . . . "

He nodded, dipping to press his forehead to hers.

"You all the way at home. I can handle that, Baby . . . unless you wanted to invite a friend or two to join us . . ."

She rolled her eyes before looking up at him. She was serious.

"I'm not playing Tig. You sleep with any other woman in Charming and I will find the prettiest, sexiest girl I know and fuck her just for the hell of it. Got me?"

He nodded, knowing his eyes were probably dark with lust.

"Could you do that anyway? I swear I don't mind so long as I can watch . . . maybe even join in . . ."

She raised a brow before shrugging out of his hold and turning to leave. When she got to the door, she glanced back, smirking.

"Christmas is only a few weeks away . . . who knows. Maybe Santa can bring you something nice . . ."

Tig smirked, following her as she went to towards the living room.

"Well, tell Santa I want something small and Asian with a killer rack . . . and that after a few days we send her back and get back to us."

Ripley rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she knew he was more than serious.


	13. Chapter 13

_Okay, I am earning this M rating in this massive update just to let people know. If you haven't already figured that out . . ._

* * *

Gemma had insisted on helping her paint the former office, dragging Tara and Luanne along to help. Which, if hadn't been for the fact that Gemma was _supposed _to be resting and Luanne brought two of her star girls with her as some sort of weird punishment, would've been great. But as it stood, there was more drama now than there was working.

Ripley sighed, sinking to the hardwood floor as she heard Tara and one of the cum-divas-Ima she was pretty sure- start up another round of cat-fighting. God she didn't need this. Not today. She had two days to get this room ready for the twins . . . and, since she and Tig had moved the office upstairs with help from Happy and Ope when he'd come back in last night, it shouldn't have been so hard. She'd talked to Tig and, after some prodding and promising, had gotten him to call and ask the girls what color they wanted the wall. They'd settled on lavender . . . and Ripley had been at Lowes in Lodi bright and early to pick out the perfect shade. Which was actually going to be two shades. She'd found a grayish lavender in an eggshell finish and then a slightly darker dusky version of the color in a metallic finish. She'd already stripped the walls and cleaned them, painting the two plain lavender walls after she'd taped off the longest wall to stripe while the wall with the windows to the patio would go the straight metallic color.

She'd dug the bedframes out of the attic and per Clay and Gemma's orders, they had been taken to the shop to be sandblasted clean and resprayed the antiqued silver she'd found. The thin white dresser she'd found in another back corner of the attic had been taken outside and repainted, the drawers receiving a stenciled filigree pattern in the same metallic lavender for the walls and the silver hardware was soaking in cleaner. She'd gone out and found a few little knick-knacks to make the room homier, including a small black bronze bird cage to sit on the dresser below the vintage mirror she'd bought but never put up.

All in all the room would look perfect for the twins . . . if she ever got around to getting it painted so she could go and pick up the damn linens and the art.

A hand on her shoulder brought her from her daze and around to face the other blonde Luanne had brought with her. She was looking down at her with concern in her pretty blue eyes as she just barely kept her hand on her shoulder. Ripley patted the floor beside her. She'd seen this girl with Opie around the Club . . . and from what she'd seen she was pretty nice. Very quiet and very low key . . . especially compared to the princess downstairs arguing over Jax.

"Have a seat. There's plenty of floor."

The girl smiled bashfully, her cheeks flushing as she sank to the floor, folding her jean clad legs under her. She'd at least dressed appropriately. Her jeans were low rise but long and flared around her old scuffed white sneakers while her white tee shirt was loose and kind of hung around her thin frame. The shirt was long, grazing her hips even as she moved while the long simple golden necklace came almost to her navel, small trinkets and pieces of rose and peach colored quartz hanging beside a small coral charm. Her face was clean of makeup save a tiny bit of shiny gloss that smelled like strawberry banana when she'd put it on earlier. Her long curls were up in a high but loose ponytail, pulled away from her face but with enough around it to soften the effect.

She looked around before turning back to Ripley almost meekly. How in the world did a girl like this start making porn?

"I love your house. Its very pretty . . . and I think this room will look nice once its finished."

Ripley smiled, feeling herself relax a bit. This girl was sweet. Almost too sweet . . . She stuck her hand out, putting her best smile on as she introduced herself.

"I'm Ripley Guadimus. And thank you. If we can get the soap opera practice in my kitchen to stop we might get it done before Doomsday."

The girl looked a little amazed but shook her hand, laughing quietly as she nodded.

"I know what you mean. I'm Lyla. Its nice to finally meet you Ripley."

Ripley nodded, stretching to pop her sore back and making a mental note to tell Tig to lay off bending her over the fucking tub before she stood and straightened her own loose torn jeans and her fitted maroon tee shirt. She'd cuffed the jeans to come to just below her knees, exposing her tanned legs and the flip flops she'd worn out earlier. Lyla stood with her, glancing around the room again before going to the windows.

Ripley followed her, looking out at the sunny day. Days like today her gardens looked great. And she was stuck inside babysitting the idiots. She turned to Lyla, suddenly having an epiphany.

"Do you want to ride with me to grab the bed stuff for this room? The mattresses are being delivered around four so I've got time. And it doesn't seem like I'm going to be able to go after we paint . . ."

Lyla nodded, looking a little amazed at the offer before practically blinding her with a face splitting smile.

"Sure! That would be great."

Ripley wondered who had been mistreating her that she had been so happy for such a simple invite . . . before Tara walked in the room and Lyla's face fell. Ripley raised a brow, looking to the other doctor skeptically.

"Yeah Tara?"

Tara glared at Lyla before turning to Ripley, completely ignoring the girl. Gemma popped in behind her, looking about ready to scream.

"I'm taking Gemma home since this was obviously a bust. I'll be out in the car."

* * *

Gemma moved so Tara could leave, shaking her head as she watched her go. There was no doubt in her mind that Tara loved Jax now . . . but the girl needed to learn to put the others in their place if she was going to have any peace of mind as far as their relationship went. She sighed, turning to see Ripley still glaring after Tara as Lyla seemed to have moved closer to the other woman. She raised a brow. Ripley wasn't as opposed to Cara Cara as the other Old Ladies and women around the Club . . . but she hadn't been a supporter either. But the way she turned back and laid a hand on Lyla's shoulder wasn't something the normally standoffish girl would do.

She stepped into the room, moving to hug Ripley. Who hugged her back like she was her world. Gemma smiled. She knew that no matter what this girl would always love her. And she would try with Lyla if Ripley was willing to. She turned to the girl, noticing for the first time the way the willowy blonde almost cringed away from the look. Maybe she and Tara had been lumping Lyla in with Ima and the others and she didn't deserve it. She knew the girl had a cocaine problem but Luanne had too when she'd been starring instead of producing. It was a risk that came with the territory.

Gemma offered Lyla the kindest smile she could, watching as she seemed to blossom right before her into a very pretty and sweet looking little thing. She would give her a chance. If for nothing other than Ripley and Opie.

"I'm going to go, Baby girl. I'm so sorry. I thought it would be more help for you . . . not more work. Luanne already took Ima with her . . ." She looked to Lyla. "Do you need a ride, sweetie?"

Lyla blinked, opening her mouth to speak but Ripley cut her off.

"I asked her to go with me to get the linens and stuff, Gem. I can take her home on my way back if she needs me to."

Lyla nodded, smiling to Ripley before turning to Gemma.

"That's fine. Thank you, Mrs. Morrow though for asking."

Gemma smirked. Oh this one was too sweet. She would be good for Opie . . . after she and Ripley opened her up a bit.

"No problem sweetie. And its Gemma. I'm going girls. Have fun."

And with that, the Biker Queen of SAMCRO left the building.

* * *

Lyla sat in the front seat of Ripley's car, happy that she didn't have to deal with Ima or the bitchy doctor. Ripley seemed okay for a girl connected to SAMCRO. Actually she was probably the nicest person she'd met with them so far. Luanne spoke highly of her and she seemed very close to Gemma Morrow. And she didn't seem to get on very well with Tara or Ima . . . putting them in about the same category. If you didn't mention Ripley was a doctor and Lyla was a porn star.

She huffed, looking out the window with her shoulders slumped. Who was she kidding? She wasn't even close to the same level as the woman driving. Ripley had her own house, a nice car and the Son she wanted. She wasn't a coke head, she wasn't a porn star or a single mother struggling to survive.

"Why so blue all of a sudden?"

Lyla turned, looking to Ripley as she stopped for a light. Ripley was dressed pretty similar to her . . . save she'd donned a dark navy zip up hoodie with the SAMCRO box logo across the back. She was in no way ashamed of where she came from. Lyla sighed, deciding to just get it out.

"Just looking at the differences. I mean you and Tara are both doctors and you're going out of your way to be nice to me. She's usually hateful."

Ripley snorted, rolling her eyes as she propped her elbow on the door, waiting for the light. Lyla raised a brow, confused.

"What? You don't agree?"

Ripley cut her odd colored eyes to her, making Lyla suddenly feel like an ant under a microscope until she rolled them back to the road and grumbled.

"First off, I'm not going out my way to be nice to you. I've seen you with Ope a few times and unlike Tara I know that a person's job doesn't make them. My ex girlfriend was a model and she was probably the sweetest fucking person I've ever met. But because she posed nude a few times people always thought she was loose and trampy. The reality was she was far from it."

Lyla blinked, stunned.

"Ex-girlfriend?"

Ripley nodded, pulling away from the light and on towards Lodi. She drove in silence until Lyla couldn't help it anymore.

"But don't you date Tig? I mean, aren't you like his Old Lady or something?"

Ripley laughed, shifting as she passed a car before switching back into her lane. She looked over to Lyla and winked, shaking her head.

"Its rare I have girlfriends. I've only had a few. And yeah, I date Tig. But I'm not his Old Lady. Old Ladies are inked in . . . not fucked in."

Lyla nodded, settling into the seat. It wasn't what she'd expected but she could honestly say she'd seen weirder things than learning Ripley occasionally batted for the other team. Hell, she was sure that Ima did most of the time before she went gaga over Jax. As they passed the Lodi sign, Lyla felt the need to ask.

"So why are you being nice to me then? If you're not going out of your way?"

Ripley shrugged, slowing to near the posted speed limit.

"I want to be. You seem okay, not like the other one with Luanne. You've got a good head on your shoulders . . . I can feel it. Plus, you're good for Opie. He seems to kind of land with you around. I don't know how yet but you're gonna be important to him. So I'm going to go ahead and accept that and get to know you. Besides, you can't be any worse than Tara."

Lyla couldn't help it. As they pulled into the parking lot of the bedding store she laughed her ass off. Ripley just smirked, getting out and slinging her arm over Lyla's shoulders as they walked in together. When they got right inside, however, Ripley had her rolling again when the teenaged male attendant started to drool.

"I don't think we'll tell him you're not my type . . . wanna have some fun?"

* * *

Lyla had laughed, shoving her hand in Ripley's back pocket and leaning into her as they came in to pick up the order she'd placed earlier in the morning. Thankfully, they had enough of the fabric n stock to make both comforters . . . and they'd had the sheets. The boy left them to go grab his manager, almost tripping when Ripley had leaned over and kissed Lyla's cheek loudly. As soon as he was in the back, both girls were almost crying as they laughed. This sealed it, Lyla was cool in her book. Only Gemma would usually do the goofy stiff with her . . . because Tara never had. But now she had a partner.

The manager came out, shaking her head as she heard the boy gossiping to the other workers before stopping to glare at Ripley. Ripley just shrugged, taking the bill and signing it after she scanned over the contents of the three huge bags. Finally the manager had enough and started talking.

"I swear, Ms. Guadimus. Next time please don't spring this on us with such short notice. I was lucky to have what you wanted. If it isn't right just bring it back and we'll fix it for you. The decorative pillows and the cases are in the bag with the curtains and sheet sets and the lace and ribbon has already been attached. The monogram pillows are still wrapped so just pull them out. Do you need anything else?"

Ripley shook her head, smiling at the woman as she filled in the final price. She'd left them a $100 tip for getting this done so quickly. And for making the curtains. The woman balked before plastering a huge smile on her face, waving them out with promises for them to come back. When they were outside, Lyla laughed and shook her head.

"I think she was happy we were leaving. Maybe her help will stop foaming at the mouth now."

Ripley shrugged, then rolled her eyes when her cell went off. She shifted the bags, digging in her pocket to see who it was. She sighed. It was Tig.

"Hello?"

"_You're not here and the room is only half painted. You got abducted by aliens didn't you?"_

Ripley laughed, popping the trunk and putting the bags in, motioning for Lyla to do the same as her own phone rang. Ripley smiled, shaking her head. Great minds think a like apparently.

"Nope. Just shot out to get the bedding. Gloria did what I wanted so we're good there. I have to stop and pick up some frames, baskets and hangers and we'll be back. Shouldn't be too much longer."

"_We'll? You take Gemma with you? I thought she was on bed rest?"_

Ripley sighed, crawling in the car as she answered Tig. Lyla was talking on the phone outside, looking pretty happy whoever had called. Probably Ope. Maybe she could get the Sons to paint the rest . . . since it technically was Jax's fault it didn't get done in the first place.

"No but Gem was there earlier. She brought Tara and Luanne to help paint. And Luanne brought Ima and Lyla."

She heard him curse at someone before he spoke to her again. He had people in the house?

"_Oh I bet that was a fucking freak show. Nobody died?"_

"No. But Tara may if she doesn't get her attitude under control in my house. I understand her beef with Ima but Lyla was the only one helping me and she was overly rude for no reason. And has been apparently."

"_Well, you know how she gets. What does it matter to you though? Thought you didn't care one way or another."_

"I don't about the others but Lyla is sweet. And she's good for Opie. He needs that and she seems to need him. Tara is being self-righteous because Ima keeps trying to get under Jax. Who's there with you by the way."

"_Opie and Juice, though Ope's out on the phone. Happy and Chibs are en route. Gemma ordered us to come paint since something happened. I just wanted to make sure there aren't gonna be anymore shallow graves near Lodi."_

"None today, Tigger. I'll see you when I get home okay?"

"_Sure Baby. Now . . . which paint are we supposed to use again?"_

Ripley laughed, shaking her head as Lyla got in the car, a small smile on her face as she buckled her seat belt. God, they needed to get back or the twins were in for a very ugly room. She collected herself and started giving orders. Making sure to speak very slowly and very precisely . . . And she could practically hear Tig glaring at her through the phone.

"The shiny one that say metallic base coat on the lid and the can. The other color has already been painted. Just make sure you guys do a thick, even coat. And keep the rollers clean or the trash will show with this finish. Do you know where to paint?"

"_Yes Ripley we're not __**complete **__fucking idiots."_

And with that he hung up, leaving Ripley laughing as she cranked the car. They hadn't even pulled out of the lot when Lyla's phone rang again. It was Opie asking to speak to her.

"_So uh, we __**don't **__paint over the purple gray . . . right?" _


	14. Chapter 14

Tig watched Ripley and Lyla come in through the front dorr, both lugging bags as big as they were. Though for Opie's tiny blonde that wasn't a big feat. As soon as she sat the bags down she checked with Ripley to see if she needed anymore help before making a bee line to a shiny paint covered Opie. Tig shook his head as he watched the tall Son dip to kiss Lyla's cheek, the girl almost blushing crimson at the contact while Opie seemed to become just a tad more awkward than usual. Ripley smiled, stepping around them quietly and coming to stand beside him.

"You guys get the room painted?"

He nodded, looking down at her. She looked tired but he knew she would stay up most of the night and finish the room. The girls would be here day after tomorrow and she wanted a day to relax and get the rest of the house in order . . . while he wanted them to get as much fucking in as possible. He might be crazy and have more fetishes and quirks than a sex store but he was not about to do all of the loud fucking they usually did with his fourteen year old daughters downstairs. The quiet kinky kind of course . . . maybe even some bathtub nookie but no loud stuff. And Ripley could get very loud. He shifted, readjusting himself as he leaned against the staircase banister. But then again, she could make him scream in German if she wanted to . . .

He nodded his head towards the bedroom and she shrugged, following him. He held the door open for her, letting her see what she'd been trying to put together for the past twelve hours.

The walls were drying but looked good. Odd but good. He knew that Dawn and Fawn would like it since it was weird and girlie without overdoing it. He'd brought the bedframes back from the shop and he and Happy had put them together, sliding them against the dry light gray lavender wall. The mattresses were already on them, ready for the bedding while he'd pulled in the dresser and the side table. Ripley nodded, going over and lightly touching the wall.

"I should be able to finish after we eat. Do you want to see the bedspreads and sheets?"

He shook his head, looping his arm over her shoulders when she stepped back into him.

"Baby I got no clue how to do any of this so I'll just look at it all when its done. I'm sure it'll be fine. I mean the rest of your fucking house looks like its right out of a goddamn magazine spread . . . why would this be any different? Hell this is the first time I've painted since I was married. And she had to threaten me with absolutely no sex again to get that done."

Ripley laughed, leaning up to kiss him.

"She just didn't have my secret weapons."

He raised a brow, wrapping his arms around her waist as he smirked down at her. She grinned up at him, linking her arms around his neck.

"Oh really? And what are they then? So I know 'em when I see 'em . . ."

She leaned in, neither noticing Opie and Lyla as they stepped into the doorway.

"Well the first one is my best one. I only use it times of dire emergency. It's called the eyes. And I look up at you like this and lean against you like this and promise to do whatever you want if you'll just give me my way."

She leaned flush against him, one of her legs going between his to just barely touch his package as she looked up at him. Her uniquely colored eyes looked big and watery against the fanned black lashes while her bottom lip puckered out ever so slightly as she ghosted her lips over his jaw. He fought the urge to groan as he pulled her even tighter against him.

"that one is effective . . . though I hope you only plan to use it on me. What the other one?"

She smirked, nipping his jaw hard, causing him to kiss and go to catch her mouth . . . and get very frustrated when she pulled away at the last minute, grinning darkly at him. He glowered at her, catching her at the base of her skull and holding her steady. His mouth latched onto hers, moving slowly and deliberately. And making him very, very frustrated when she didn't kiss him back. He whined a bit against her lips and she parted them, openly kissing him until he picked her up and deposited her on the dresser beside them. He stepped between her legs, his hands trailing down to grab her hips and pull into him. Letting her feel just how much he really did enjoy this little game. When she pulled back, she was grinning.

"See . . . I didn't have to threaten sex. Kisses work just as well."

Tig groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder as she laughed, pulling him close and laying her head on his.

"What the last one? Or do I want to know?"

She grinned at his muffled voice, shrugging as he straightened back up.

"Probably not. It's the worst by far . . . but it only works in Charming."

He raised a brow, intrigued. Until she spoke and he went to grab her, barely missing her as she darted off the dresser and around him to the door. She moved past Opie and Lyla, giggling as the other blonde followed her towards the back porch where Juice, Chibs and Happy were.

Tig just grumbled, glaring at Opie as he literally rolled in the floor. Damn girl was a pain in his ass.

"Tell Gemma. Fucking traitor. That's not a secret weapon that's a weapon of mass destruction."

* * *

Ripley surveyed the room, nodding at her handiwork. Lyla and Opie had stayed longer than the others, Lyla helping her make the beds before she had to leave to go get Parker. Tara could say what she wanted but Lyla was a sweet girl and trying hard. They'd talked while the made beds about the cocaine and Ripley had offered to recommend her to a counselor at St. Thomas if she wanted to. Lyla had declined, promising it had actually been weeks since her last hit but if she relapsed she would get the number then. Ripley had left it alone, knowing that her willingness to try was a big factor in quitting. If she wanted to quit. She shrugged, it really didn't matter to her . . . she just wanted Lyla and Opie to be happy.

She turned, glancing at the mirror above the dresser. The antique mirror had been at a thrift store in Long Beach and the swirling curling frame had called to her. She'd never found a place to hang it in her old home and she was glad now that she'd made use for it. It did look nice above the painted dresser against the striped wall. The beds looked good too, all shiny and new in their fresh paint and the new bedding. The comforters were the same thick down stuffed velvet and satin lined as her own upstairs, just in a very dark grayish purple. With two navy cashmere throws on the foot of the bed. The sheets on both beds were soft cream jersey cotton with gray lavender lace and a small border of cream ribbon right at the hem to hide the stitching. Both beds had a plethora of pillows, both functional and decorative, in navy black, slate blue and the gray lavender while each had a small cream pillow trimmed in a navy border with a decorative letter embroidered in the center. One a D and the other a F.

She'd hung the small glittering sconces she'd found while they'd been out on either side of the mirror, hanging two small black birdcage ornaments from the otherwise empty candle holders. The vintage birdcage sat atop the nightstand, holding a few small paperback books and the remote to the wall mounted TV and Blu-ray combo that hung parallel to the beds. The matching velvet and satin curtains hung over the wall of windows, cream sheers blocking the room from view of the gardens while still letting light in. The final touch was the small white bench beneath the TV, the whole bottom lined with fabric covered baskets, each with tags. She'd made one for makeup, books & magazines, hair accessories and movies, hoping the girls would use them to make their stay a bit better. A set of small black framed pictures of birds and keys hung over the beds, each hanging by a cream ribbon knotted in a perfect bow. Those damn bows had taken her forever . . . and they had better damn stay.

She jumped when she felt arms wrap around her before settling into Tig as he pulled her back into him. He chuckled, looking around the room with a low whistle.

"Do you like it?"

He nodded, kissing her neck softly as he squeezed her. She smirked before fiddling with his rings uncertainly. She looked back at him, worrying her bottom lip.

"Do . . . do you think they'll like it?"

* * *

Tig nodded, hugging Ripley tighter to him as he kissed her cheek. She'd gone above and beyond to make this room as nice as she could for the girls . . . She'd even gone so far as to incorporate small pieces of the black and blue the symbolized SAMCRO into the space. He knew that this was nicer than their room at Allison's house. And he knew they would love it.

"Baby, they're not gonna want to leave. Where did you get another TV?"

She blushed, mumbling lowly as she turned her face away from him. He quirked a brow, leaning in.

"What was that? I didn't catch it . . ."

She sighed, looking at him as she blushed and he knew she'd done something really stupid. Or really reckless.

"I bought one when I was with Lyla. Its what Opie had to get out of the car . . . I also got them some movies and books . . . I didn't know what they liked so I just started picking some out. Is that okay?"

He blinked before laughing, pulling her into him. God what had he done to get someone like her? He nodded, kissing her cheek again.

"Yeah Babe. Its great. What'd you get them?"

She moved, pulling the bin labeled 'Movies" out from under the bench before grabbing the 'Books & Magazines'. He looked them over, seeing that both tags were in her looping curling hand writing. She wrote way to pretty to be a damn doctor. She'd gotten them about twenty DVDs and Blu-Rays . . . All three Pirates of the Caribbean, Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse, the Runaways, She's the Man, Love Wrecked. He glanced at her, shaking his head before going on to the book bin. The twilight saga was there, something he knew they were reading as well as few others he didn't know. Along with some teen and fashion magazines he'd have never touched if he'd had too. He put the bins back, curious as to what was in the others.

He pulled out makeup, seeing two small fabric bags, each monogramed like the pillows. One was navy with lavender flowers while the other was lavender with navy flowers and both initials were in a bright, hot pink. He looked to her before opening the bags. Tinted moisturizers, concealer, clear gloss and mascara with neutral eye color and blush palettes and tiny bottles of different, expensive perfumes. He sighed heavily, looking up to her.

She blushed, reaching out to zip the bags back up and put them away.

"I'm over doing it aren't I?"

He didn't say anything, looking to the 'Hair Accessories' bin.

"Do I want to know?"

She blushed even darker, making him pull it out. Two small purple hair dryers with white polka dots, two round brushes and regular brushes, two combs and two picks. And two full sets of matching shampoo, conditioner and curling mousse. All in purple bottles with Love Spell written across it. He looked up and she shifted.

"It's a scent that's pretty popular but not over powering. I know that I like it . . . and if they don't then they can use the other new stuff in the bathroom."

He raised a brow, knowing it was probably going to stay there permanently if he didn't quit finding things she'd done for the twins without telling him. He got up, going into the bathroom. There on the back of the door were two new white robes, both longer than her own and overly fluffy. The white curtain had been replaced for one that matched the beds and she'd changed out some of the white accents for lavender. He sighed, shaking his head. Dear God no wonder she seemed tired. She'd pretty much redone everything and bought enough to keep them happy for years.

And for some reason it made his heart clench. She didn't even know his girls, she just knew they were his, and she'd done this. He needed a drink.

He walked back into the twins room-it still sounded weird- to see her looking at the beds before shaking her head and going to cut off the small silver lamp on the bedside table. He watched her as she moved slowly, straightening pillows and smoothing covers, trying to make it perfect. He sighed, shaking his head as she turned to look at him. She went to step around him and he stopped her. She sighed, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"I;m sorry I went overboard I . . . I just wanted them to feel at home here. If I over did it I can-"

"You didn't . . . It's just a lot to take in Baby. You realize two weeks ago we fucked on your desk in this room? And now . . . just look at it. You went and rearranged everything for this so-"

"But I wanted to Alex. They're your daughters. I know how important that is. How much a man in your role in the Club needs family to keep them grounded. I've seen the other SAAs. With the exception of a few they're all fucking crazy. Hell one idiot in Washington almost got my brother killed by shooting off his mouth in a damn bar. Khail's a Nomad. He was just passing through and got stabbed because the dumbass couldn't be quiet . . .But more importantly, I care about you and I wanted to help you . . . to do this for you. I'm sorry i-"

He cut her off, pulling her into him and slashing his mouth over hers. This was the second time in as many days that she'd done this. Said or done something so unbelievably . . . insane he just wanted to throw her down and make her scream out for him. He pulled her back into the hall, closing the door behind them as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He picked her up, letting her wrap her legs wrap around his waist. Fuck going to get a drink. He wanted-no needed her. He carried her down the hall and dropped her on her longest sofa, pulling his lips from hers. He had until early morning day after tomorrow to work this kink out of his system.

And they were starting now.


	15. Chapter 15

_The twins arrive! And the ex . . . don't hate me . . . but this is the last update for the day. I'll probably have a few more after turkey day. Have a Happy Thanksgiving and enjoy!  
_

* * *

Ripley checked herself in the mirror for the fiftieth time in twenty minutes, making Tig shake his head and chuckle. She was a nervous wreck. With good reason . . . Allison was en route with the twins. And already in a hell of a mood from the sounds of it. Apparently she didn't like having to come out to Ripley's home to drop the girls off, insisting that he should meet her at T&M. Which he almost did . . . but Gemma had been the one to point out, as she dropped by at the ass crack of dawn this morning to deliver his check and given Ripley the two huge giftbags she'd made for the girls, that he rode a bike. And as far as Allison knew Ripley wasn't in the picture so how in the world would he have gotten them here without putting one of his daughters on the back of a complete stranger's bike?

Tig had to admit, the fire that had flamed up in Ripley's eyes at that had been more than terrifying. Especially when she started going off about how incredibly dense and selfish that would've been of his ex. He'd shrugged, used to the behavior while Gemma had reached out and pulled her into a loose hug, rubbing her shoulder.

And of course the resulting fight over giving her the new address was epic. Ripley heard bits and pieces as she bustled around the house, straightening and arranging while Gemma had helped fold the leftover laundry. And she had not been happy. When she'd caught Allison asking why she was coming there instead of his apartment, Ripley had given him a look that brooked no argument and written down "You moved". He'd gulped and done as he was told while Gemma had gone to the back porch to cackle. Which led them to where they were now.

Gemma had already changed into her trademark jeans and a soft looking white sweater that covered her scar and her tattoo. She'd cinched a thick bronze studded toffee colored belt around her waist and had tucked the jeans into a very familiar pair of toffee riding boots. Her hair was styled and her makeup perfect, both working to hide the bruising from her accident. Done up like this, Tig could hardly believe she'd been hurt at all . . . until she moved too quickly. She was still stiff and rigid but Ripley swore it was something that would take time to heal. Apparently it'd been a hell of an impact.

He sighed, going to sit on the sofa beside Gemma and flicking the TV above the mantel on, trying to find something to keep them occupied while Ripley flitted. She was a like a hummingbird on crack this morning. Had been since her feet hit the fucking ground. He shook his head as she walked by him, hips swaying as she moved to arrange some of the glasses of sand and sea glass on her bookcases.

She'd decided, in light of meeting the girls and Allison for the first time to dress a bit nicer than she normally did. He'd raised a brow and had shrugged, agreeing as he left her to get dressed. He'd been expecting one of her work suits and one of the ultra-frilly shirts he'd seen when they'd been allocating some of his jeans and shirts to spaces in her massive walk-in closet. Needless to say he was ill prepared for what he got when she came back downstairs. She'd done her hair, forming the blonde main into a waterfall of big golden ringlets while she'd parted and brushed her bangs away from her face just enough to make it different than normal. Soft wisps still framed her face while the rest cascaded down to her just above her hips. She'd also done her makeup but instead of the overly natural and professional he'd seen a million times for work, she'd gone a bit bolder. Her skin seemed to glow and her cheeks appeared to be naturally rosy while her eyes . . . Her eyes had been swathed in a shiny neutral shadow while she'd rimmed them with dark ebony kohl. That, coupled with the black mascara making her already plentiful curling lashes seem fuller and longer, had him hard pressed to look anywhere but at her face. Her lips were a glossy nude color and had tasted faintly like vanilla the one time he'd been able to catch them.

And while the makeup itself was a treat, the tight fitted cable sweater dress was like Christmas in November. The light heather oatmeal gray color of the dress made her skin seemed incredibly dark and exotic while the almost conservative neckline and long sleeves she'd bunched at her elbows toned the dress down enough to seem casual. Until he realized that the hem of the skirt fell just below mid-thigh, making it shorter than anything else he'd seen her in outside of the bedroom. And the boots . . . God he had no clue she owned so many damn pairs of boots and shoes. But he made a silent vow he was going to fuck her while she wore every single pair. Because each pair she'd pull out was more mouthwatering and tempting than the last. This particular pair was a dark, supple brown leather that came right up to her knees, where the tops cuffed over once. A single thick strap of matching leather crossed over the front of the ankle and connected the sides of the boot with one intricate bronzed buckle. The cowboy styled heel peeked beneath the strap, keeping the boots from being too sexy or inappropriate . . . not that he couldn't find a way to make them. Her in one of his seldom worn plaid flannel shirts and those boots would be a great way to start . . .

He shook himself, looking up to see her moving again. She'd donned a long gold necklace with an assortment of trinkets and charms, leaves and what looked a branch and one long blackish blue feather, and had actually stolen one of his rings from her counter. But while he wore the golden 'SO' ring on one of his smaller fingers she had it displayed on the middle digit of her left hand. And would fiddle with ever-so-often as she moved about the house.

The sound of a car pulling up the graveled circle drive brought him back to the present and landed a sense of dread right in his stomach. He tried not to see Allison if at all possible and while he would trash talk her with the best of them he was more than a little concerned about this meeting. He hadn't ever seriously dated since they'd split . . . and now that he was he knew she would do something to try and fuck it over if she could. She'd loved to play games with people . . . one of the reasons everything between them went so fucking toxic so quick in the end. That and he'd decided he wasn't going to try to be a good faithful husband after he'd caught her in bed with her boss. What was the point? He'd put away his kinks, his lust and love of sex-of women- and she'd shelved him for a fucking promotion and bigger pay off.

A honk of the horn brought Ripley back into the living room with an incredulous look on her face and made him grind his teeth as Gemma's look darken into one he knew too well. She'd always hated Allison . . . and she would make her life hell is she stepped out of line even a teeny little bit. He sighed, looking to Gemma as Ripley stalked right past him to the front door and opened it, heading out on the porch with a friendly smile and a very false sweet voice.

"Let's go get this over with . . . Please behave?"

Gemma smirked, pulling him with her as she smoothed the light blue button down shirt Ripley had put him in. He'd bitched at first but it did look nice with the black undershirt and the dark jeans and his boots. Not too far from the norm just a bit different.

"I don't think we need to worry about me . . . Ripley's got claws, Baby. And she'll use 'em for you."

He sighed, hearing the sounds of the car doors opening.

"That's what I'm afraid of Gemma . . ."

* * *

Ripley watched the woman pour herself out of the Escalade and had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She was such a dark tan that Ripley was sure it wasn't natural . . . and once she got closer she knew she was right. She still smelled like the coconut oil they put in the spray on fake bake tanner at the higher classed salons. Ripley's smirked, waving slightly as she looked over the rest of her. This was who Tig had married?

Allison-or the Harpy as she would probably always be to her- was fairly attractive with dark green eyes and chocolate brown hair that was loaded with red and blonde highlights enough to soften the dark color without looking trashy. Her oval shaped face was symmetrical and her lips seemed just a bit too full for her face . . . just like her nose a little too perfect to be completely natural. As she smiled, her teeth gleamed white and straight against the deep red of her lips . . . but her eyes told her everything the smile tried to hide. This woman was not happy to see someone else here. Especially female.

"Hi . . . I'm looking for Alex Trager. I don't think I've got the right place . . . maybe you can help me?"

Ripley's smirk darkened as she stepped forward, extending her left hand first. Making sure the sun caught the gold Sons ring on her finger. Allison's voice had been full of sweetness and overly polite on the surface, but the way she'd spoken had been intended to cut. Not very deep . . . just enough to let blood into the water. Two could play that game.

"You're at the right place. I know it's a bit of the beaten path but we love it out here. I'm glad you found it okay though. We were beginning to worry."

Green took on a harder glint as understanding dawned and her smile fell just a bit. She nodded, crossing her arms loosely as she stood and looked Ripley over. She was dressed in skintight black satin skinny pants and a deep V cut black shirt . . . black strappy heals securely on her feet. Ripley knew she was evaluating her own outfit . . . but it had been carefully picked. Conservative enough to be respectful of the fact the kids would be here . . . but just risky enough so that she didn't seem too out of place beside Tig. And that she kept his eyes on her.

Finally, Ripley turned, tossing her curls over her shoulder as she looked at the door. Tig and Gemma were both there . . . and though Tig's eyes flitted over Allison, they landed on the shadows in the backseat and stayed there for a few long moments before going back to her. She smiled at him, crooking her finger. He smirked, stepping off the porch to stand beside her and wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her into him. She smiled up at him, winking before turning back to Allison. She did not care for the purely territorial look on the woman's face but she swallowed it, kissing his cheek and pushing Tig forward.

"I'll make us some coffee . . . why don't you get the girls in and settled?"

The look Tig Trager leveled on her was pure hell . . . but she turned and slowly walked back up the steps, making sure she kept herself collected until she was pass the smirking Gemma and inside. Once she was, she let her shoulders sag and all but ran to the kitchen. God, what a fucking bitch!

* * *

The second Ripley was inside, Allison turned on Tig with eyes filled with furry. He groaned, turning to go to the side door and open it for the girls. HE might have to listen to this shit but he did not have to look at her while he did.

"And just who the hell is that, Alex?"

He shrugged, opening the door and felt himself relax almost completely at the two smiling faces waiting on him. He knew they were bigger now, damn near grown if they were to be believed, but they would always be his little girls. Around them was the only time he was allowed to be soft and not hounded for it. And he cherished it.

"Hey girls."

Dawn and Fawn both rolled their eyes, shaking their heads in unison as their mother huffed and stormed to the back of the car after he ignore her. Vowing they would talk about this before she left. Once she was out of earshot, Dawn piped up, unfastening her seatbelt.

"So . . . who is that, Dad?"

Tig smirked, scratching the back of his head as he stepped back to let Fawn out. Once her feet hit the gravel, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Dawn was quick to come around the front of the car and join her, nearly knocking him over as she jumped on him. He laughed hugging them to him before bending to actually look at them. It'd been almost seven months since he'd driven to Berkley to see them . . . and they were still fucking growing.

Both had their mother's hair color and his curls, something they lamented about from time to time when they wanted straight hair. They each had tiny freckles across their noses, so small you barely see them against the slight tan of their skin. Another trait they took from him. And of course, while they favored their mother in the face, enough of him was there that he didn't mind looking at them . . . Hell, he personally thought it made them prettier but that could be vanity talking. And of course they had his eyes, just rimmed in thick lashes like his own mother's had been.

"You never answered me . . ."

Tig chuckled, reaching and ruffling both of their hair. The groans he got were worth it though . . . He sighed, looking back to Allison-who was thankfully on the phone- before back at them. He was so happy they seemed to shun Allison's trendy ways and were dressed sensibly. Both had on long, flared jeans and different tee shirts, though both were wearing cardigans and gray converses. He shook his head. He'd never gotten more thank you's at Christmas than he had with the matching pair of gray Chuck Taylors. He might love skin tight clothes and barely there skirts on women but these were his girls. His babies. And he'd kill them for _**ever **_dressing like their mother or her friends. If anything he wanted them to dress the way they were now. And maybe, when they were thirty like Ripley usually did. Classy and casual not skanky and fake.

"She's his girlfriend."

All three looked up to see Gemma as she stepped closer, eyes dancing as Allison came around and glared at her. The twins, however smiled and shot into her outstretched arms. Tig smiled. Gemma loved his girls . . . so did Clay, but Gem seemed to take to them something fierce when they'd started coming to visit a few years before. Of course after Allison remarried the visits to Charming all but stopped, forcing him to travel to see them. But she'd been just as happy as he had when he'd gotten the call the girls wanted to come here.

He turned, going to help Allison with the bags when he stopped short. There was enough luggage her for three months not three weeks!

"Jesus-tap-dancing-Christ what did you brats pack?"

Dawn laughed, grinning widely as Fawn just shook her head and smiled up at Gemma. Dawn was the instigator and by that laugh she had been responsible for this. But Fawn's little smirk said she'd been a willing participant. Dawn looked up, grinning darkly at Gemma and Tig suddenly knew what the others felt like when he got that 'I'm about to fuck your world' look. Because his daughter had inherited it in spades.

"Aunt Gemma . . . doesn't he realize girls need a lot of clothes and stuff to keep themselves up? I mean we're not boys. We don't just wear the same shirt for seven day then burn it."

Fawn nodded, leaning in to talk to her sister as they ganged up on their poor old father.

"Yeah. I bet his girlfriend has a huge closet full of clothes. And Daddy only has a small space for his work stuff."

The girls started laughing, Gemma joining them as she turned and ushered them into the house. Tig knew, by the hushed whispers and looks over Gemma's arms and giggles that he was in trouble. But he didn't care. He had them for three weeks. And he'd savor every bit of pain and suffering that came from it.

* * *

_Happy Turkey Day! Reviews are like Turkey . . . they make me happy. I am a goober . . . and yes i have no shame about admitting._


	16. Chapter 16

Dawn's eyes moved critically over the living room they'd walked into before cutting to meet Fawn's. This was so _**not**_ what their Dad's last place had looked like . . . meaning that the _girlfriend _had done this. Fawn reached out, grabbing Dawn's hand and drug her with her deeper into the house. The living room was mostly shades of white and creams, with blacks and navies scattered throughout. Dawn nodded, approving while Fawn stood on her tip toes to look at the TV above the rough wood mantle. They would enjoy that.

Dawn moved, and then turned back. Something just beyond the bright white French styled doors had glittered . . . and she wanted to know what it was. She tapped Fawn, pulling her away from the TV and the pictures to go with her. When they passed through they both had to stop short. The room was massive and covered in glittering silver gray wallpaper. A long rough looking table sat in the center under a funky chandelier that looked like it was made from shells. White chairs lined both sides of the table, each having different colored pillows in the seats. But Dawn's favorite part was the two brightly colored and patterned armchairs at the ends. They looked so cool. Weird paintings hung on the walls and she knew Fawn was dying to touch them. She loved art like Dawn loved music . . . and _**both**_ of them_** loved**_ weird things.

Fawn turned, looking through the other set of doors before nodding to Dawn. They would see this then go back around. They moved in slowly, taking in the bright white cabinets and the deep purple walls. As well as all of the odd things hung up and on the glistening counters. They shared a look as they passed the small table and plush chairs. Two cups of coffee were still sitting on the table top, a pair of big funky tortoise shell glasses beside a stack of manila folders. Dawn watched amazed as Fawn picked up the glasses, sliding them on and looking around before offering them to Dawn.

"They're not that strong . . . and they're neat! Go on, I wanna see if I look cool."

Dawn rolled her eyes, taking the glasses and sliding them on her nose.

"And you can't use a mirror _**why,**_ R-Tard?"

Fawn shook her head, pushing her sister playfully as she smiled smugly.

"Why _should_ I? We're twins. I see how something looks on_ you_ and I know how it'll look on_ me_. Besides, it saves me the trouble of walking."

Dawn shot her a deadpan look over the top of the glasses before shaking her head.

"You are such a dork. So, how do they look?"

"Great."

Both girls jumped as a new voice filled the kitchen, turning to see the woman from before leaning against small side door of the kitchen. Dawn and Fawn both blushed, putting the glasses back down slowly. But the woman just laughed, shaking her head as she pushed off from the wall. When she got closer, she reached in a bag hung over the side of the chair, pulling out a leather snakeskin glasses case. A bright green leather snakeskin glasses case. Both girls watched as she opened it; producing a pair of bright red glasses similar to the others, save a bit smaller. The coolest part was the little silver inset on the side that made all of these swirls and designs.

She smiled, extending them to the girls.

"If you like those you'll love these. I found them in LA and had to have them."

Dawn eyed the glasses wearily while Fawn reached out and took them slowly. She shrugged and slid them on, turning to Dawn. She had to admit they were nice glasses . . . Dawn nodded, reaching out to take them to try them on. Fawn giggled when she saw them, turning to the woman with a smile.

"I like them. Where did you get them?"

"Dolce and Gabana."

The woman grinned, sinking into one of the chairs and crossing her legs at the ankle. Which kept her dress from riding up and showing anymore skin. Something the girls had been taught in school. They shared a look before shrugging and separating. Dawn sank into the other chair while Fawn looked to the countertop. The woman nodded, shrugging and that was the invitation she needed to hop up and make herself comfortable crossing her legs beneath her while she watched the new woman in their father's life. They_ knew_ their Dad didn't date. Oh sure he had sex-something he tried _really_ hard to keep them from knowing, but they _were fourteen_ notstupid- but not girlfriends. And they were both sure he hadn't _dated_ dated since he spilt from their Mom.

Dawn leaned forward, leading the way with the questions.

"So, you're our Dad's girlfriend?"

She nodded, leaning back into her chair while she fiddled with the big ring on her hand. If she started talking to them like they were babies they would bury her. No questions asked. But she didn't, she smiled and looked to the two of them. And spoke to them the same way she would've anyone else. Which earned her big brownie points. Now if their Mom's boyfriends could get that trick . . .

"Yep. I'm Ripley in case no one's told you yet."

They shook their heads, adding another point when she didn't look at them weird for doing it in unison. Fawn was up next, scooting closer to the edge of the counter.

"How old are you?"

Ripley smiled again, chuckling.

"I'll be thirty in February . . . God you two are_ just_ like him."

Dawn raised a brow, fielding the comment appropriately.

"What do you mean?"

Her smile softened as she looked between them, her eyes staying on both of them equal time. Something they both noticed. She was treating them like equals . . . not little kids or annoyances. Something they didn't get a lot up in Berkley outside of their friends.

"You're apparently smart and you notice _everything_, from the way you're looking around. You get that from him. You also ask pretty direct questions to get the information you want . . . something else you take after him. I promise that's not a _bad_ thing . . ."

Fawn smiled, looking to Dawn who was still looking Ripley over critically. Dawn would take longer but she could see that this Ripley really liked their Dad. And he apparently liked her to live here . . .

"What do you do?"

Ripley laughed, picking up a folder and waving it a bit before dropping it back to the table.

"I'm a forensic pathologist. I work here in Charming and help in Lodi and Stockton . . ."

Dawn and Fawn shared a look. No freaking way . . .

"You're like Dr. G? That is _so __**cool**_."

* * *

Ripley laughed as she was suddenly bombarded with a million questions about pathology. Apparently, the girls had their father's morbid fascination with her job as well as his eyes and his interrogation habits.

"Is it gross?"

"Do the bodies smell?"

"What does the brain really look like? Is it_ really_ pink?"

"Is it like it is on CSI where the pathologists do all the work?"

She shook her head, trying to answer all of their questions.

"_**Whoa**_! First off, yes it can be gross but you get used to it after a while. Yes the bodies can smell, especially if they've been dead a long time or left in water. Now the brain isn't pink, it's actually grayer but other than that the cartoons and movies have it pretty close. And no, the pathologists don't do all of the stuff like they do in CSI unless it's a_ very_ small lab. Even here in Charming I have three assistants who handle the other, smaller things."

They looked to each other, smiling as she watched them. They were too much. She stood, stretching before holding her hand out towards the living room.

"The only thing left back here is small indoor the laundry and washroom so you guys want to go see your room or do you want to wait for your Dad?"

They shrugged, turning back towards the front of the house. The quieter one she was pretty sure was Fawn while the more outgoing was Dawn. If they were talking she could tell, but she would be hard pressed to differentiate if Tig hadn't told her some about them while they lounged in bed last night. She smiled, a little sad that their more . . ._ vocal_ exploits had to be put on the back burner but she knew Tig wouldn't be able to keep up his end of this whole 'No Sex While the Girls Are Here' crap he'd tried to sell her after he'd fucked her into a near sex-coma. At first he'd said nothing loud but as the day wore on he'd announced to her that he wanted them to _completely_ abstain while the girls were here.

She shook her head. Tig Trager wanting to not have sex was a hard pill to swallow . . . but she'd do it for him . . . And the first time she caught him with a Croweater she'd chop his dick off and gift wrap it.

Ripley led the girls back through the living room just in time to see Tig carrying in what seemed to be enough bags to clothe a small, Third-World country. The girls laughed as he glared at them before running over to each kiss a cheek and hug him before shooting off down the hall.

"Thanks Daddy."

"Love you Daddy."

Ripley was quick to follow trying to choke back her laughter at the look on his face as he watched them race around the house. They had him wrapped around their little fingers and if _**any**_one else in SAMCRO knew he'd be a dead man. Mainly because they would rag him to the grave about it. Not that any of the others could say a damned thing . . . She knew how Bobby was about his own brood and Chibs seemed to worship his own daughter though he rarely saw her. And Jax and the Morrows with Abel . . . She shook her head, still smiling. The girls stopped in front of the door, waiting patiently for her to push it open. She rolled her eyes, pushing it open for them to see their home away from home for three weeks.

Fawn went straight to her bed, tracing the sheets and looking over the pillows while Dawn looked at the TV behind the door. Fawn was quick to join her after Dawn spotted the baskets . . . and Tig came in just in time to see them pull out the makeup bags she had put together. Fawn looked up, smiling while Dawn pulled out the gloss to try it. She nodded, putting it back and going for the hair basket.

"Alright! I don't have to fight you for the hair dryer anymore!_** Yes**_!"

Fawn rolled her eyes, looking in as Tig watched them, his hand on Ripley's hip. She leaned back into him, planting a small kiss on his jaw before turning back to watch the girls. At least they liked what she'd done so far . . .

"Or the round brush either. And look! You don't have to steal my shampoo anymore. We _each_ have our_** own**_!"

Dawn shook her head, looking up to Tig.

"_**Dad!**_ Can you _please_ explain to the goober I call a sister that if I use _**my**_ shampoo instead of hers it gets gone too fast. But if I use _**hers **_mine lasts longer."

* * *

Ripley turned, trying to run away to laugh but Tig held her in place, keeping her there as she chuckled. There was no way in_** hell**_ she was leaving him to deal with the monsters she'd just created. He was glad they liked the baskets and the goodies inside. Now he just hoped this didn't turn out like the dollhouse when they were five. He really didn't want to have to fix anything in this house yet.

"If you run out we'll get more. Just use your own and **don't** fight, okay?"

Both of them nodded and went back to snooping. He knew they were _so_ not going to keep to that. Too much like him. Ripley leaned against him, her head on his shoulder as she hugged him. She kissed his jaw again, lingering a moment longer than she should have. But he didn't mind. He needed something to keep him from strangling the Harpy.

She'd done nothing but make comments and quips since Ripley had vanished inside and even gone so far as to tell him she didn't want the twins to stay with them if they were shacking up. He'd almost hit her before Gemma stepped in, quickly explaining that what he did with her goddaughter was_ none_ of her damned business. The nerve of that bitch to say that when she and whatever_** this**_ one's name was had been living together for months. And she wasn't even divorced from the _**other **_idiot yet.

He sighed, pulling her into him as he buried his face in her curls.

"You okay?"

He nodded, kissing her neck before pulling back. The last thing he needed was to catch a good whiff of that damned lotion and get any harder. Keeping himself in check with the girls here wasn't too hard but with Ripley against him and looking so damned loving and vulnerable at the same time . . . he didn't trust himself.

"Yeah. Just ready for her to _**go**_, you know? She and Gemma are about to brawl."

Ripley smirked, stepping away.

"Well, show them the bathroom and the upstairs and I'll go keep peace. Okay?"

He nodded, reaching out to take the hand with his ring on it and kiss her knuckles.

"Thanks, Baby. You're a godsend."

She smirked, winking at him as she sashayed down the hall.

"That's why you love me. Tigger."

"Only_** one**_ of the reasons, Baby. Only _**one**_."

He chuckled as she blushed and waved before turning the corner into the living room. He went to grab the rug rats before he stopped, realizing what had just happened. He never even played around with the 'L' word, unless he was stoned or hung over. Hell the only reason he'd even told the Croweater he'd dumped in the floor he loved her was because he'd been pretty sure it was the only way to escape with his ears and throbbing head intact. She'd been about to toss an empty bottle at him afterall. But here he was, acting like the little scene back there was normal.

But wasn't it? Hadn't he pretty much stayed here before this and kept her by him as much as possible? Hadn't he already asked the Club for permission to have her inked is she said yes? He nodded to himself, looking back over at the girls as they both shared a look and flopped on the beds like idiots, laughing as they sank into the deep covers. He smiled, shaking his head. He needed to get his shit together. His girls were here and Ripley was here. The Club was up and safe and he was as happy as he'd been in fucking years. Life was good. And he needed to quit bitching and just enjoy it.

"Okay. You two . . . come see what she did in here before her head explodes. She's been climbing the walls to know if you liked it . . ."

* * *

Ripley stepped into the living room and had to quell the instinct to step back out. Because Gemma Teller-Morrow was in pure Queen Bad-Ass mode and about to take midlife crisis Barbie down a few pegs. Which was totally fine with her but she really didn't want to clean up after them. Blood was far too hard to clean up . . . especially from her pristine white couches.

She sighed, clearing her throat . . . which brought both of their heads whipping around to face her. Gemma's fierce stare softened just enough that she felt herself relax while Allison's just darkened. Ripley fought the urge to roll her eyes as she stepped between them and went towards her kitchen. As she got to the dining room, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

"I'm sure the coffee's done by now. We can drink in the kitchen while Tig gets the girls settled."

Gemma nodded, moving to follow while Allison seemed torn between standing her ground and just leaving. Finally, she seemed to settle on a decision as she stalked after them. Only to stop short when she walked into the dining room. Ripley knew she hadn't meant for the little flash of shock to slip through her stone cold bitch slash seductress act, and that made witnessing it all the sweeter. She would so enjoy putting this woman in her place if she stepped out of it now that she had Tig occupied. She would do it subtly-if need be- and was already pretty much celibate until he finally snapped . . . so what was the worst he could do? Give her the silence treatment?

She led the way, stopping to grab the white mugs from her cabinets and motioned towards the chairs around her dinette table.

"Go ahead and have a seat. Do you take cream and sugar?"

* * *

Allison Trager-McIntyre sank slowly into the plush chair, watching the new fixture in her ex-husband's life closely. She knew Alex . . . this wasn't normal. He'd always been a free spirit and, if she was honest with herself, that was part of the thrill in catching him. But once they'd married, had the girls and life had started to settle she found herself missing the way it had been when they'd just been fucking. Oh sure, she'd told him after they'd married she wasn't going to stand being treated like a whore and had effectively cut all of his fetishes and curious experimentation with sex out of their lives for good, but she'd just wanted to see if she could make him do it.

When she'd seen he would, it had been other ways to see how much stake she had in him. Even _**after**_ they divorced. Hell, for a time she'd let him think there was a chance of them reconciling their differences . . . and that had been an awesome year and a half of fucking. But she never_** truly**_ considered it . . . she just wanted to make sure she still had him if she wanted him. And, until today, she always had. Alex Trager had been hard pressed to settle down once, it had been part of the fun and pride in her finally accomplishing it . . . so she'd always assumed he would never do it again. But here she was, sitting in this house and accepting coffee from this woman. This would not do. This would not do at all.

She smiled, taking the cup from the girl. She watched her hand Gemma the cream container, trying not to roll her eyes. She'd always hated Gemma Teller-Morrow with a passion. She was the only other woman before today that she'd been sure Tig would ever leave her for. And if Gemma hadn't been so in love with Clay then she was sure it would've happened . . . eventually. But to see this girl at ease with the Queen Bitch of SAMCRO left her torn between being furious and envious. She apparently didn't worry about Tig ever deciding he wanted what Gemma had. And Gemma didn't seem to flaunt the power to control the Sons to this girl like she had with herself.

She took a sip, actually surprised at the pleasant taste. For some reason she'd been expecting her to make a pot of shit just to get in digs. She nodded, looking up to the other two.

"Thank you . . . its very good . . . I don't think I caught your name sweetheart."

The girl smirked, settling herself against the counter before setting her own cup down, crossing her arms to fiddle with the bulky ring on her finger. Allison had to fight the urge to scream. She knew that ring. Hell, Alex hardly ever took any of them off even when he slept. And here she was, parading around in it while Gemma just smiled on. Oh she was so going to gut Alex over this . . . he'd done this to her on purpose. The girl's voice brought her mind to the present, snapping her attention back to the matter at hand.

"Sorry . . . I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Ripley Guadimus Shaw. It's a pleasure to meet you . . ."

Allison nodded, eyeing the girl skeptically. She'd been overly sweet and polite the little bit of time that she'd been in her company . . . even going so far as to keep her the Queen Bitch from brawling. But something about the way she was looking at her now, her light blue green eyes eerily tracking her and taking in every detail, made her feel more uncomfortable by the second. Whoever and whatever she was, this Ripley was dangerous. And keeping Alex Trager in line was only part of it. She would be smart in this . . . but she was getting her answers.

"So . . . are you Alex's girlfriend? I mean, I wasn't aware he had one but we don't always discuss every detail of each other's lives."

Ripley's smirk never wavered as she hopped up on the countertop, swinging her booted feet idly-almost girlishly-as she shrugged. She flipped her hair, making the blonde curls fall over one shoulder as she turned and grinned at Gemma.

"Yeah. I'm Tig's girlfriend . . . "

Allison shifted in her chair, feeling like she was being left out of some huge cosmic joke as Gemma's lips spread into a dark grin to match Ripley's. She narrowed her eyes, deciding to just get to it.

"So how did you meet him? At the Club? You don't seem like a normal Croweater but they come in all shapes and sizes . . ."

The girl shrugged again, her eyes going almost frigid as her smirk became sharper and darker. Allison suddenly knew that this was what fish felt like when sharks smiled.

"I moved back to Charming a few months ago . . . and reconnected with the Club. My father was a member . . ."

Allison raised a brow. That seemed innocent enough, but to have caught Alex's interests . . . Hell, she'd gone to the parties at the MC with a friend a few times before he'd ever even noticed her. And then it had been a game of seeing if she could keep his interests over the others present. There had to be more to this.

"Oh, that's nice. Where did you move from? I mean, I can't imagine leaving anywhere to come back to Charming . . ."

Ripley's eyes flashed before her smile waned enough to let Allison know she'd hit a nerve. So the little girl actually liked this Podunk little shit town? Well that explained a lot. When Alex had transferred right after their divorce the girls had gone on and on about the nice town he'd moved to. And while Charming was okay she would never trade the bustle of Berkley for it. Ever. Another reason their 'reconciliation' had been deterred . . . She smirked to herself. But the sex had been great while she'd played with the idea . . .

"I moved back because this is my home. And for my job. I was offered the Chief Forensic Pathologist position for Charming, with the understanding that I occasionally help out in Lodi and Stockton when they need it. But I wanted to move back . . . "

* * *

Gemma watched as Allison's brows shot into her poufy hair, eyes wide as full comprehension of Ripley's words hit her. She smirked behind her coffee cup, practically basking in what she knew was about to happen. Gemma herself knew where this would lead the second Allison insulted their town. This might not be the most glamorous place in the world but it was the only place Ripley had ever called home. And Allison would soon learn why no one had ever fucked with her inside the Club. While Ed had been vicious in his protection of her and her mother, Millie hadn't ever really needed it. She'd come up from a bad family with worse connections to the criminal element. And she was hell-on-wheels when she was pissed. Even Clay and Piney knew that when a certain look hit her face the Club had better step back and let the shit storm hit Ed full force . . . or she would take them down with him.

Ripley had exhibited that trait once, right before Tara left for what they'd hope was for good . . . and it had been a glorious sight. And the soul reason she'd started grooming the other girl to help pick up whatever slack was left when she and Clay finally stepped down. Because between Wendy and Tara, Jax wasn't going to pick a very strong willed Old Lady to keep things in line. Ripley would, now that she'd opted to come back and immerse herself so deeply in the Club, need to be able to help the boys toe that line. And the look on her face-the same Millennia had worn before her-promised she could. After all, not many people were stupid enough to fuck around with a woman who could easily dispose of your body after she killed you.

Allison regained her composure, trying to hide the fact she'd choked on the sip of coffee she'd taken.

"You're a pathologist? Like a doctor? How old are you?"

Ripley nodded, picking up her own cup and taking a long drink before sitting the empty cup down. Gemma watched her turn the ring on her finger and made a note to tell Clay about it. Allison's eyes had strayed to that ring more in the past few minutes than anything else . . . and she could see it was eating the gold digging bitch alive that Ripley was wearing it. Because she knew for fact Tig had never let her touch any of his other ones.

"I am . . . and I'm twenty nine not that it really matters. Why? Think I was a bartender or something?"

Allison's flushed cheeks and narrowed eyes were the little touch Gemma needed to crack. At first she chuckled quietly to herself but then she couldn't help it. In seconds her sore cheek was resting against the cool wooden table as she laughed loudly, clutching her sides as Allison fumed and Ripley shook her head. Oh Tig would be pissed but she'd had enough. This bitch needed to go and go now. And she knew just the way to do it too . . . after she quit laughing.

* * *

Tig watched the girls survey Ripley's room and bathroom, shaking his head as they pleaded to get to at least try the tub before they left. He didn't see a problem with it but . . .

"We'll go down and ask Ripley. I don't think she'll care but she's put a lot of effort into this place. That tub was one of the last thing she had to do."

Fawn nodded while Dawn smirked, both coming to walk beside him as he stepped out and going towards the landing-slash-office-slash-sitting area. They quickly wormed their way under his arms, letting them settle over their shoulders as he chuckled.

"So . . . you like her Daddy?"

Tig nodded, pulling them to him as they stood at the mouth of the stairwell. They both looked up, his own eyes staring back at him in faces far too innocent to have ever come from even part of him. They were his goodness . . . them and Ripley. His light.

"Yeah . . . I do, girls."

Fawn leaned against him, looking down before looking back up.

"Like . . . a lot? Because you know if you do, then I think she's pretty cool. Aunt Gemma seems to like her too . . ."

Dawn nodded, pretending to look shocked before continuing. Tig couldn't believe it as he listened to them go back and forth, listing all of the reasons they were actually okay with Ripley . . . Jesus, when had his little girls grown up?

"Yeah I know. Aunt Gemma doesn't really like anyone so if she likes her then you'd better stick with it. Besides, she would make a pretty cool stepmom, you know? I mean, she made us a freaking sweet ass room, she got us all of the Twilight books-"

"Something Mom refuses to do because she can't get into them."

"And she made sure we both have our own stuff and don't have to share."

"Plus she doesn't treat us like babies, which is like a huge plus for her."

Fawn nodded, looking to Dawn who had that gleam to her eye as she looked up to Tig.

"And she loves you."

Tig sputtered as they laughed, hugging him again. He shook his head, reaching out and ruffling both of their hair before he pulled them into him in loose choke holds. They laughed and squealed, not bothering to try and escape as he picked with them.

"Oh so all it takes to make you two loyal little minions is some paint and some books, huh? What about me? Huh? And watch your damn mouths. I may cuss like there's no fucking tomorrow but it doesn't sound right coming from you two. You're going to be good little ladies if it fucking kills me. Got it?"

They laughed, trying to pull away as he grinned, tickling them before letting them go. They nodded, agreeing to his terms and he opened his mouth, getting ready to ask another question when they heard a crash downstairs. Dawn and Fawn went pale as a shriek sounded and was followed by another, louder crash. Tig groaned, looking to them before shooting downstairs to separate the fight he knew was happening by the muffled curses floating up the steps.

"I swear to God if the two of you ever act like your damn mother I'm locking you both in the looney bin. You got me?"


	17. Chapter 17

Ripley was pissed. No, she was _**beyond **_pissed . . . and this backstabbing gold digging whore was about to get sliced, diced and drawered at the morgue. If she could trust Gemma enough to let her go. She turned; looking to woman she was holding back by the now stretched collar of her once perfect sweater. Gemma's dark eyes were burning with intense hate and anger and she was breathing hard enough to have gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson . . . She sighed, shaking her head. No hope there.

She turned back to Tig's ex, who was _far_ easier to incapacitate than she'd ever hoped. Apparently the bitch was all talk and very little fight . . . if any at all. As it was, she was holding Gemma as loosely as she could, trying to be conscious of her injuries while keeping her contained, and as far from where she had the Harpy formerly known as Allison pinned to the floor. She shook her head, glancing skyward for a second before closing her eyes. _Why her?_

Gemma had laughed at her little quip to the stupid bitch. And said stupid bitch hadn't taken it very well. So, like any good brainless twit, she stood and open hand smacked Gemma Teller-Morrow across the face. Dead on her already fractured and healing cheek. Which when coupled with her last little dig at all of them, had sent the almost always controlled Gemma into a rage Ripley had never seen. She knew what was going on . . . and she had to keep it from happening. Gemma was refusing to talk about her attack, trying to work through it on her own. And while Ripley understood her reasoning and would keep her secret as long as needed, she knew that this wasn't healthy for her godmother's delicate emotional state. Any form of attack left emotional and mental scars that mirrored-and could even be worse than-their physical counterparts. Normally, counseling and a strong support base were what the doctor ordered . . . but Gem wasn't hearing it. And Allison's little stunt had triggered some of the overflow of rage she knew Gemma felt at being so helpless within her own body and mind.

Ripley huffed, pushing her booted foot a bit deeper into Allison's chest, causing her to yelp as the hard leather bit into the exposed flesh. Bitch deserved the ass whipping Gemma would've dealt her . . . but the twins didn't deserve to see their mother get beat down. No child should ever have to see that no matter how horrible the parent.

"You _**both**_ need to stop this or I'll send you _**both **_out."

Gemma nodded, backing out of her grasp and leaning against the counter. The wince told her that she'd made herself sore . . . She sighed, knowing she'd hear from Tara over this. She looked down to Allison expectantly, waiting for her to wave her own white flag. Finally the woman, nodded and she pulled her foot back, shaking her head at both of them as she pulled Allison to her feet.

She glared at the woman, internally cheering as the bright red boot print started to darken. With any luck, the stupid cunt would have a huge bruise in the shape of her size 8 ½ boots for a good part of her cruise. She could only be so lucky.

"I think maybe it's time for you to say goodbye to the girls and go. I'm not separating anymore brawls in my kitchen . . ."

Allison fumed, turning on her heel and stomping towards the door, straight past Tig. Who was standing there dumbfounded as he looked from where his Ex had barreled past him to Gemma and herself. He shook his head, looking to Gemma with dark eyes.

"I thought you were going to behave . . ."

* * *

Gemma shrugged, wincing as she shifted. Ripley noticed and moved, promising to return with meds before disappearing back towards the front of her house. Leaving Tig and Gemma alone. She sighed as he crossed the room, concern warring with aggravation in his pretty blue eyes. Finally, concern won out.

"You okay, Gem?"

She nodded, trying to move despite the pain in her sides and lower. If she ever caught the bastards that did this to her she'd fucking kill them. And dance over their damn bones.

"Yeah, just great. I'm just feeling sore and stupid. But the bitch had it coming Tigger. She isn't talking to my girl like that. I don't care who she is."

Tig raised a brow, stepping closer and helping her to the plush arm chair. When she was settled, he knelt beside her and placed a hand on her knee.

"Like what, Gem? What'd she do?"

Gemma rolled her eyes, glaring towards where Allison had disappeared.

"She kept asking questions about Ripley's age and her job. Then she made her little quips about Charming. And I was fine. Until she asked Ripley how long did she intend to play house with a some twisted nutcase twice her age. Ripley was all good, just telling her that she liked her twisted nutcase and age just meant more experience and better in bed. But it just got to me. I mean, I helped _raise_ her, Tigger. I want her **happy.** And I want **you** happy. And you do it for each other so who is she to ask and condemn? Especially with the hell she puts you through . . . I don't see how those sweet girls came from her at all."

Tig nodded, standing as Ripley came back in, pills in hand just as Gemma went to speak again. She passed them to Gemma, waiting as she dry swallowed them before going to leave the kitchen. Gemma watched Tig catch her, pulling her into him.

"You okay, Baby?"

She nodded, refusing to get too close as she looked towards the living room. Gemma watched as Ripley shut herself off from Tig and wished she'd gotten just a bit farther. Because if she'd been quicker, then the bitch wouldn't have been able to open her mouth. And say what she had . . . the whole reason she'd punched her back after the bitch slap.

"_You think he'll be loyal to you? He won't as soon as she crooks her finger he'll dump you and go running. And won't even get any ass for it. Trust me. Between her and the Croweaters you might as well prepare yourself for a lot of lonely nights. Unless you plan to be a whore to keep him." _

She hoped that this didn't fuck things up with them . . . because if it did then she'd kill Allison herself. No problem.

* * *

Hours later, after Gemma had apologized and gone home to rest within a few minutes of Allison's exile, Tig watched Ripley start to unwind and sag under the pressure of the day. The girls had unpacked while she'd changed into a pair of nice jeans and warm turquoise scoop necked cashmere sweater that hugged her curves and made his mouth water. Or would have if she hadn't seemed so damn depressed. He didn't know what Allison had said but he knew it had caused some damage . . . and he was intent on finding out. But every time he tried, Ripley would shirk him, opting to stay and visit with the girls. Which was fine, seeing as how they seemed to love having her around.

But now, as he watched her bid them goodnight before leaving him to set them up for the evening he hoped she would be awake when he got upstairs. He turned, looking to the girls and shaking his head. They'd changed into their pajamas and Ripley had shown them how to work their TV so they were pretty much set. He was just waiting for them to settle down so he could tell them goodnight.

Dawn looked up, after flopping into her bed, and seemed to pick his thoughts right out of his head. Damn they were scary when they did that.

"Did Mom hurt her feelings?"

Tig sighed, shrugging. He hated to get them involved in the shit between him and Allison but he wasn't lying to them. He has enough secrets with the Club and his patch. He wasn't lying to his girls. Allison did that enough for both of them anyway.

"I think so. But it's more her and Gemma fighting probably. Gem was just in a bad wreck and she's Ripley's godmother. So Rip's a bit . . . **protective** over Gemma right now."

Dawn nodded as Fawn settled into her own bed, far easier than her sister had. For twins they were polar opposites sometimes . . .

"Did she **_really_** flip Mom and pin her to the ground with her foot?"

Tig smirked before he could help it. He'd come in just in time to see that happen and it had been glorious. Ripley hadn't hurt anything but their pride as she separated them but it had still been cool to see. Especially when she dug into Allie . . . He shuddered, knowing that as soon as the girls were asleep he was going to renege his no-sex policy. Ripley fighting was one thing that always got him hot . . . and to see her slam Allison the way he'd _wanted_ to before had been almost an instant orgasm.

"Yeah . . . Rip's tough for such a little thing. Which is a good lesson for the two of you. Sometimes the person you least expect is the one who ends up whipping your ass."

Dawn laughed while Fawn nodded.

"Maybe she can teach us to do that . . ."

Tig shook his head, knowing that would go over like the karate lessons had at age seven. He was so not plastering anymore holes in the wall. Ever.

"Yeah, We'll see. Good night girls. Love you."

They both nodded, settling down.

"Love you too, Daddy."

"Yeah Dad. Thanks for letting us come. We miss you."

He stepped closer, dipping to kiss both of their crowns before going and flicking off the lights. He was so happy they were here . . . and that Allison was gone.

"I miss ya'll too girls. Every day. Sweet dreams."

And with that he closed the door, making sure the small lamp in the bathroom was on so they could find it before shaking his head. They weren't six anymore but he still did it. Besides they were as bad half asleep as he was. And Ripley's almost endless patience would definitely run dry if she had to clean up any puddles. He sighed, turning to head up the stairs. He needed to see to _**his**_ girl . . . and make sure she was okay.

* * *

Ripley stood under the spray of the shower, head hung as she let the almost boiling water roll over her head and cascade down her shoulders. She'd seriously thought that maybe Tig had exaggerated some of his . . . hang ups about his ex. But he hadn't. That woman was a harpy straight from the pits of hell. And she'd forced herself to close off for most of the night to keep it together.

She knew Gemma would never hurt her like that-not intentionally-but to hear that it _might_ have happened before . . . it tore her up. She_** loved**_ Clay. Just as much as she loved Gemma. And the thought of either of them betraying the other was . . . so wrong it hurt. She sighed . . . then almost jumped out of her skin when she felt arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back into a solid and mostly dry chest.

She sighed, leaning back into Tig as his hands roamed her body before settling on her hips to keep her steady as his mouth latched onto her neck. She whimpered, bending her neck to give him better access before she realized she had. But when his teeth grazed her pulse point she pulled away, turning to face him. She needed answers or this wasn't going anywhere. She knew it was stupid and insecure-and most likely a lie- but she needed to hear it . . .

"Allison told me Gemma was my main worry with you . . . that if she said to you'd leave. That true?"

Tig stood there, nude and hard and stunned before he snapped out of it enough to laugh. He pulled her back into him, laughing against her before he backed her up against the cool tile wall. His hands roamed again, one dipping to play with her folds while the other caught her chin and forced her to look at him.

"Am I touching Gemma?"

She shook her head, trying not to gasp as she felt two fingers slip inside her. He grinned as he started moving them, keeping a lazy rhythm as he kept his eyes on hers. He leaned in, lips almost touching hers as he sped up, drawing another gasp from her as she kept his gaze.

"Am I kissing Gemma?"

Before she could answer, his mouth was on hers, moving fiercely as his thumb found her clit and started circling it in time with his fingers movement. She felt her orgasm building as his mouth left hers, trailing down her chin and jaw to her neck. When he got to her collarbone, he nipped hard and chuckled at the throaty moan she couldn't hide. Suddenly as she was beginning to come undone, his fingers were gone and his cock replaced them. A few hard thrusts and she was gone, head lulled back as she fought not to scream out her completion. The girls were here and they did not need to know that their father had literally just fucked her silly . . . . With barely an effort at all.

As he kept moving, thrusting and kissing and biting, she felt another wave approaching and rose to meet it, bringing her hips against his as hard as she could. He chuckled, kissing up to her ear as she came again. God, he never let her get off this quickly . . . except out under the willows.

"Am I fucking Gemma?"

She shook her head, resting her forehead against his as he came up to kiss her again. He caught her face, holding her there and kept his eyes on hers as he moved. This was new . . . she saw him trying to keep his own end at bay . . . and as she felt another orgasm setting she cupped his face, whispering against his lips as she pleaded with him.

"Let go Baby . . . Come with me . . . Please, Ti-"

"**Alex."**

"Wha-"

"Alex. You're the_** only**_ person I** ever** want to hear call me that."

He thrust hard into her, making her jump and moan as he chuckled. She knew he was close but he kept talking, kept thrusting.

"She called me **Alex** all day, Baby. I don't want to_** remember**_ what it sounds like. Please . . ."

"_**Alex**_ . . . Come for me. _With_ me . . . please Baby. I want to feel you. Just let go . . ."

She felt the tension inside snap as she floated away into oblivion as he thrust hard and fast before burying himself as deep as he could. She was barely aware of him lowering them to the ground, holding her in his lap as she felt the aftershocks rock her body. He hissed, his own hips jerking up and into hers again so suddenly she didn't know what was going on. Until he laid her flat on her back on the floor and started thrusting into her like a man possessed. The orgasm that hit her was unexpected and powerful, leaving her arms and legs feeling leaden as she held him. His cheek was against her chest, his ear over her thrumming heart as he tried to catch his breathe.

What in the hell was that?

* * *

Tig was sure his legs were fucked. They felt like Jell-O . . . but he didn't care. It had been _years_ since he'd come twice in one sitting and he was hell bent and determined to appreciate it now. He lay there, under the warm spray of water with his head cradled on Ripley's chest; listening to her heart slow and her breathing even back out. He knew now, after her question that Allison had tried to poison her with one of her own fears . . . and almost had. He'd have to be careful . . . because Ripley wasn't going anywhere . . . not if he could help it.

He sighed, kissing the spot over her chest before rising to his knees. He looked down at his lover, basking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and lidded eyes. He'd thoroughly fucked her . . . and she'd enjoyed every second of it. He bent, watching the water stream off of her before reaching out and touching her. His fingers trailed down her chest and toned tummy to the apex of her thighs. The heat that flashed in her sea glass eyes told him everything he needed to know before he leaned down and let his tongue follow the same trail as his fingers.

He grinned against her flesh, savoring her little mewls and moans as he circled her clit with his tongue. He loved to go down her . . . especially after she'd already come a few times. It made all of the little noises seem so much sweeter to his ears . . . As his tongue dipped between her lips, running up her slit one full time before he latched back onto her clit and suckled, he slipped his fingers back into her. He groaned against her as her hands came to tangle in his soaked curls. They were definitely going to be a while . . .

Ripley was spread over Tig's body, her head on his chest as she tried to will herself to stay awake. He was running his fingers through her drying curls, twisting them around before letting them fall back into the golden mass. She sighed, snuggling deeper into him as his arm tightened over her waist, pulling her closer. She was almost asleep when his voice brought her back.

"Rip?"

She kissed the spot closest to her, letting him know she was awake.

"Mm hm?"

"What do you want for Christmas?"

Ripley sat up, looking at him oddly as she blinked. But he seemed serious, perfectly content to talk about this like he was the million other random things they discussed. She shook her head, laying back down against him as she propped her chin up on his chest. Tig really did look content leaning against her headboard and pillows nude, hair drying and him smirking down at her with that smug little smirk. She'd hated that smirk once . . . and now she was thrilled to see it. Mainly because it meant he'd just fucked both of them into oblivion.

She shrugged, leaning into his palm as he reached up to cup her face, his thumb tracing her cheek.

"I don't know . . . I haven't thought about it. Why? What do you want?"

He shrugged, eyes closing for a few long moments before he looked back to her. She had to fight the sigh that tried to slip past her lips. No one would ever believe her if she said Tig Trager could look at anyone like that, so content and peaceful and just . . . free. But she knew that he probably never would look at anyone else like that . . . at least she kind of hoped he wouldn't. He seemed to pick up on her thoughts and shifted, leaning down and kissing her lightly on the lips as she rose to meet him. The kiss went from light to passionate quickly and she found herself hoisted and dropped right onto his lap while he pressed their chests together.

She pulled back, knowing that they really did need to sleep. The girls wanted to go to Lodi to shop tomorrow and then go see some of their favorites at the Club after lunch. They would need to be well rested . . . not sleep deprived and fighting off a sex-coma. But as he stretched back up to capture her lips again, she felt her resolve waning. She might have her secret weapons to getting him to paint but he definitely knew how to get her to agree to anything he wanted. All he needed were those pretty eyes and those devilish lips of his.

He grinned against her lips, pulling her harder down on him and letting her feel just how much he wanted this. She shivered. Her Tigger had an appetite that could rival even the worse nympho's . . . but she loved it. Part of the reason she'd dallied with women ever-so-often was because the men got boring and seemed to lose interest after a time. Something none of her girlfriends ever had done. But it seemed that Tig would be able to keep up with her. A definite plus for him.

His words made her remember her question and she hated herself for the rush of heat that passed through her. God he did not need to do that . . . she loved hearing him like this too much . . .

"I just want you Baby. Gift wrapped and waiting for me. Think you can do that?"

She nodded, kissing him again.

"I think so . . . "

He nodded, grinning like the cat that got the canary as he moved her just enough for him to slip inside of her. He groaned, laying his forehead against her collarbone-which she was sure was permanently bruised with how he loved to gnaw on it- and pulling her tighter against him. She held him to her, loving the little ripple she felt shoot through him. Suddenly, his mouth and hands were every where as he stayed seated within her, trying to devour her from the neck down. She groaned, almost dying when she heard and felt the words he whispered against her skin.

"Lets get in some practice then, Lover. I wanna make sure you know exactly how to handle me."

She shook her head, knowing where this was going. He loved to tease her about her being able to handle a Son . . . his previous insult becoming the closest thing they had to an endearing joke between them. She leaned down, nipping at his ear.

"Really, do I need to teach you how to make me come while we're at it, Baby boy?"

He chuckled, surging his hips up once to make his point as she moaned. She hated it when he did that, cheating in the little game he loved to play . . . but it felt so fucking good.

"I think I know how . . . but maybe you can remind me."

She nodded, kissing her way to his cheek.

"Whatever you say, Old Man."


	18. Chapter 18

Ripley watched Tig pace their bedroom as she sat on the bed, trying to catch up on the files for the morgue. Something that she wouldn't have to keep doing if she had a competent assistant. And you'd think out of three she would but oh no. They all seemed to be mental midgets when it came to filling in the general information they knew they had to collect. She sighed, tossing her glasses off before reaching up to rub the sore bridge of her nose. She was getting a massive headache from this crap . . . well, this and the pacing Sgt at Arms, practically foaming at the mouth.

She looked up, calling out to him.

"So how long is the run? And where is it to?"

He glanced at her, rolling his eyes before stopping to kick off his boots and flop down on the bed in front of her. Effectively crushing every single file she'd just fixed. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to snap as she reached out and pulled the manila folders from beneath her now smirking lover. She was so glad it was aggravate Ripley day . . . and no one thought to tell her.

His smirk fell as he sighed loudly, looking up at the ceiling.

"Its only a two day run . . . to Eureka and back . . . but it's for the fucking Irish. I don't trust these new contacts. Just_ something_ about them. Hell, I'd rather deal with Jimmy O himself than deal with these two."

Ripley nodded, understanding the issue better than he thought. Her Pops had hated to deviate from the old way of doing things when they'd had to. And the Irish always wanted to change things around. Normally, Clay could keep them in line but with this-and the wonderful Agent Stahl still nosing around- she knew they needed to go with what the IRA was asking . . . even if it did make every hair on _**all **_of their necks stand on end.

"You think there'll be trouble?"

* * *

Tig shook his head, reaching out to squeeze her thigh. She'd gotten home a few hours before and, after seeing the girls had gone with Gemma to see Abel, had effectively stripped herself of her suit and tossed it unceremoniously into one of the hampers. She'd walked straight into the closest, grumbling as she pulled one of his flannel shirts-a gray and black one of all things- off a hanger and threw it on over her nice lacey cheeky panties he'd come to love seeing. Especially these. The same black pair with blue ribbon he'd worshiped in the morgue all those weeks ago.

He'd been content to let her work, lounging on the bed beside her watching TV as she grumbled and occasionally cursed her assistants. He was sure she was going to commit a murder and had planned to distract her while they had some time alone before the prepaid had gone off. Clay was calling to let him know about the Charity ride and wanted to make sure that he would be on. Tig had agreed but now he really just wanted to stay. Which was odd. He always wanted to ride, even when he and Allison had been together. But now, he just wanted to see his girls. He knew Ripley would be here but the twins . . .

He looked up at her before kissing the spot on her leg closest to him, rubbing up and down the exposed skin as she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. He knew if any of his brothers saw this they'd never let him live it down . . . but he loved it when Ripley would do this. She always knew just how to act or what to say to keep him level headed enough to think. And-if he was brutally honest-he liked the attention. He hadn't had anyone outside of his Brothers try and take care of him in a long time. And it was nice to be able to have it. Even if it was limited to behind closed doors . . .

"No Babe. I don't think we'll run into any . . . Cops know to leave us be on Charity rides and shit. I just don't like leaving you here alone with the girls . . ."

Ripley smiled down at him, leaning down to kiss his cheeks. He sighed, letting her leave little kisses all over his face as she worked her way to his lips. Ever since they'd taken their ride together, and he'd pretty much moved in because of the girls, he'd noticed how much more affectionate she was getting. Before they barely touched other than to grope or fuck. But now, little touches and kisses were spread out randomly through the day . . . and it was something he was surprised he enjoyed. Allison had never been overly affectionate and the Croweaters were all as fake as their tits and blonde hair. But he was watching Ripley open up with him, practically blossom into a person he was more and more attracted to with each passing second . . . and it should've scared him. But it didn't. He actually found himself looking forward to what tomorrow would bring with her. Another first . . .

He opened his eyes, looking up at her as she pulled back to smile back down at him.

"Tig Trager that is the sweetest thing you've ever said . . . And I love that you're worried about me. But you need to fulfill your duties to the Club. I am more than capable of taking care of the twins and myself for two days . . . And we'll be waiting for you when you get home. Just go . . . and enjoy yourself. Hell, maybe this run can help some of the tension with Jax and Clay . . ."

Tig shrugged before nodding. He knew a lot of the recent tension spawned from the botched hit on Opie and Donna's death . . . but he also knew it was older than that too. Jax hadn't been quite right since Abel's birth and Tara's sudden reappearance in his life. Something Ripley had been the first to point out. And while he and Opie might never be friends, he knew that Ope at least understood . . . and he knew how utterly devastated he'd been when he'd found out he'd hurt a Brother . . . his Family because of the little blonde ATF cunt. Clay, Jax, Opie and Tig had all had it out months ago-with Bobby as a mediator- and Opie had moved to bury it. He would never tell anyone who wasn't already privy and Clay had sworn to try his damnedest to make it as right as possible. Opie had been angry but he'd agreed, vowing to not tear SAMCRO apart because they'd all been played. And Tig had promised if he ever wanted Stahl's head, all he had to do was point and he'd deliver it gift wrapped on a silver fucking platter.

Opie had taken that for what it'd been meant as while Jax had popped off and gone on about how he had no problem killing innocent women so why should killing Stahl be any different? Clay had settled it, declaring the issue solved and dead . . . but Jax had been steadily working on his nerves. Even with Opie going deeper into the Club, Jax seemed to resent the easy way they still treated their awkward Brother. So he'd started with the quips and comments. And, if Ripley and Opie hadn't already talked, he knew that Jax would've killed this between them as soon as it began.

He shook his head, moving to lay his head in her lap as she continued to pet his hair.

"I have no clue what will fix this shit between them. Ope's working past it as well as he can . . . and he's taking up with Clay more and more. Jax sees it and is getting pissier and pissier about it . . . I'm beginning to think that nothing outside of letting them fight it to the fucking death will get close to touching this."

Ripley nodded, caressing his cheek. He wasn't ready for her words but they made sense . . . and he could suddenly see why Gemma seemed to be grooming her for the spot she already had. Ripley was level headed and had been raised SAMCRO. She knew the way of the Club and the world and provided a balance for it. At least to him anyway.

"Jax is haunted by his Dad's ghost, Tig. Always has been, I think. He has so much of John in him he lets it override his damn sense. And Tara doesn't help with all of her hinting for him to change his 'violent ways' . . . But about the other, Jax can't accept that the Club his father helped make would do something so . . . _**drastic **_. . . without just cause. But he doesn't see it _**right**_, you know? The Club is like a family and no matter how much I love Opie or Jax or any of the others . . . if they ever betrayed that family, that trust I hold in them, I would do the same thing Clay did. I would take out the threat before it hurt_** all**_ of us . . . and pick up the pieces when they fell. Opie is starting to get that now that he's back with the kids and Lyla's here . . . and he sees that to live this life, he might have to be less like his own Old Man and more like Clay to keep them safe."

Tig caught her hand, holding it to his cheek as he kissed her palm. God she knew what to tell him to put the demons away for a while . . . and how to fuck them out of him when her words weren't enough.

"You think that Jax'll come back around?"

She shrugged, her hair falling back over one shoulder.

"I hope so, for Gemma and Clay's sake. Clay may not always say it but he loves Jax like a son. Always has. And when John went down, he tried to be there for Jax as much as possible. Now, Jax is having to face that what we are isn't as pretty and idealistic as his Pops wanted it to be . . . but we've _**all**_ spilt blood to make it this way. And it's _**ours.**_ Jax's problem is coming from there. He wants to change . . . but he doesn't see that sometimes change isn't always as great as people make it seem. I hope that after he buries John's ghost and gets his heart straight over Abel and Tara that his head will follow . . . but if it doesn't . . . we'll have to see. I know in my heart Clay the father won't hurt him. But I know in my head that Clay the President of SAMCRO will deal with him anyway he has to if he becomes a liability. Especially to Gemma."

He nodded, kissing her palm again.

"Which is why you need to go . . . to help keep them in line, Sergeant. And to keep Clay from pulling another stupid stunt like he did at Cara Cara yesterday . . ."

Tig nodded, knowing the truth there when he heard it. Gemma had gone to talk to Luanne during her book meltdown, but she and Clay were fighting and rolling over something. One thing led to another and Gemma had snapped. Which led Clay to snapping and putting a concrete block through her window. He knew, after watching the way Gemma stood up then backed down that something worse was going on than any of them knew . . . he just didn't know what. He looked to Ripley as she smiled at him and was suddenly thankful he had her here.

"Yeah well, I can't believe I'm saying this but hopefully we won't be near any porno studios or Caddies to destroy. Just a regular run and Charity ride. You _sure_ you're okay with me going? I mean the girls go back next week . . ."

She nodded, kissing him. And he suddenly got worried at the look that crossed her face.

"Yeah I'm sure. I'll take them to see that movie you refuse to go to and we'll go buy some clothes you'll hate. And I'll even let them dye their hair blonde. I can send them back to Allison looking like miniature Croweaters . . ."

She never got to finish as she was rolled beneath him, laughing as he attacked her sides and threatening her with everything he could to keep her from fulfilling that plan.

* * *

Ripley stood with Piney as Dawn and Fawn hammed it up, watching them hug Tig goodbye while the others got ready to ride out. Piney was leaning against the doorframe to the office, shaking his head with a smirk as they both clung to their father. She smirked, shaking her head at the chuckle her 'uncle' let loose. She was so taking the girls out somewhere special for this. They'd talked and had all agreed that embarrassing Tig for the whole 'snake in the laundry basket trick' he'd pulled early this morning was fair. Especially since Ripley herself had almost died when Dawn and Fawn had shrieked, clinging to each other in fright as they danced in place on Dawn's bed. She'd gone to see what was wrong, prepared to dispatch a nasty spider or some other bug . . . only to find the very realistic black plastic snake curled atop the folded pile of their clothes. She didn't think she'd reacted too badly . . . but Tig's crying, laughing face as he clutched his sides and rolled in the hallway had told her otherwise. She hated snakes. Had since she'd had to pull one out of particularly nasty carcass a few years ago . . . and Tig had known that.

So watching him flush as he tried to pry the girls off of him long enough to at least tell them goodbye, glaring at Chibs and Happy as they barely hid their own laughter was probably pretty good payback. And he would never say anything to hurt the girls no matter how much grief he got from the others . . . so this had been a sweet form of retribution. And the girls were enjoying it too . . .

Finally they let him go to wander over to her . . . and Tig was quick to join in with Chibs picking on Half Sack. She could barely hear what they were saying but, judging from the motions her retarded boyfriend was making and the almost crimson blush on the poor kid's face she really didn't want to know.

Clay pulled in as Tig and Chibs both tried to grab Half Sack and pester him (much to the girls' chagrin if their embarrassed moans were anything to go by), followed by Gemma . . . and it was easy to see that nothing from their little fight earlier had been settled. If anything, by the way Gemma practically stormed past the boys and straight towards her and the girls, she would guess it was worse.

She sighed, walking over to tell Tig goodbye as Clay asked Bobby about his shoulder holding up. Bobby smiled, waving it off just in time for his poor neglected Fat Boy to spit out another cloud of black sooty smoke. She shook her head, trying to fan away the cloud as she coughed.

"Jesus Bobby! My Pops is rolling in his grave to know you've let a perfectly good bike rot away to this. I thought you were going to fix her up."

Jax laughed, agreeing as the others shook their heads.

"Yeah Bobby, I thought you put that beast to sleep."

Bobby growled, earning a rare and much needed smile from Clay as he started talking, defending his precious hunk of junk.

"This baby isn't even near her prime. And you're one to talk, Little Girl. Considering yours is parked out behind your house and barely gets used. Besides, I'd put her up against any of your fancy Dynas any day of the week."

Ripley shook her head, leaning over to hug Clay. He leaned into the contact and seemed thankful for it, hugging her back tightly before letting her go. She smiled up at him, reaching out and gently touching one of his hands.

"Keep 'em safe Clay . . . and have fun. I'll take care of Gemma. Hell, me and the girls can take her to a movie . . . try and get her mind off of things."

Clay nodded, bringing her hand up to kiss before stepping back.

"I'd appreciate it. Just . . . don't let her know. She's already heard me tell Piney to leave her be . . ."

Ripley smiled, patting Bobby's shoulder as she stepped away towards her now curious looking boyfriend. She turned, walking backwards in her boots as she waved and laughed.

"I will . . . just don't let Bobby ride up front. Poor ol' bike couldn't handle the shame."

The boys laughed, Bobby flipping her off as he grumbled. But she couldn't help it. She had promised her Pops she would keep Bobby-his best friend other than Clay-in line after he was gone. And she had a few years to make up for . . .

* * *

Tig decided, as Ripley walked backwards towards him for a few seconds before turning back around to jog to his side, that he loved her in those damn jeans. She'd pulled them out of the closet this morning and slid them on over a very nice peach satin thong with little white ribbons that tied to make the sides . . . and he'd been fighting to keep himself from just saying fuck the ride and going straight back to bed. The jeans were a light washed denim and more hole than fabric beginning at her knees. But he loved the fact that, before she'd slid on the long oatmeal tank top and the same toffee leather jacket she'd worn on their ride, he could clearly see not only the tops of said thong but the dip of her pelvic bones. He had never been a big fan of leaving more to the imagination but seeing her sitting on their bed, pulling those toffee boots up and tucking the jeans into them had been enough to make him rethink his position.

Now, here at the Club she looked gorgeous with her hair down and wild, curling around her as she moved. Her jacket was open, showing off the lacey top and showcasing just enough cleavage to keep attention without being trashy. Something he was beginning to enjoy. Mainly because he had so much fun exposing the skin when they got the time to do so . . . She'd donned one of her long dainty necklaces and those amber lensed aviators, making her seem almost at home among the assembled Sons. And to think she was all his . . . .

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist as she threw hers around his shoulders. He leaned down, looking at her almost lime green eyes before reaching up and pushing her glasses into her curls. There, that was so much better. She smiled up at him rakishly and he knew that he was a goner. He wouldn't be able to get out of here with the small kiss he'd wanted to limit this to. Especially after the girls' spectacle earlier.

Her mouth rose to meet his as he dipped and he was keenly aware that several sets of eyes were on them. Some of the guys from the other Charters had already asked who she was and who she was with . . . and he knew seeing her with him was a wake-up call to leave her be. He grinned against her lips as she tightened her arms around his shoulders . . . making him pull her hips hard into his. He went to pull back after a few intense minutes but she bit his lip, pulling him back and setting a fucking fire to his blood. She sucked his bottom lip, nipping at it then soothing the abused flesh with her tongue. Oh fuck it. He crashed his lips back to hers, moving his mouth over hers feverishly before pulling back and pressing his forehead against hers.

He reached up, pulling her arms down and bringing her hands to his lips. He kissed her knuckles before taking her left hand and slipping the Reaper ring he wore on his pinky onto her middle finger. He kissed the ring, refusing to look anywhere else but at her. Her eyes were closed and she looked so damn sad . . . He reached out, cupping her cheek and chuckling when she leaned into his touch.

Her voice was soft as she spoke to him, not letting any of their nosey Brothers hear her. Which was a damned good thing because he would never hear the end of it from Jax if he'd caught their quiet goodbyes. Clay already looked pissed over the public display of affection . . . while Gemma and Piney were both shaking their heads. And the twins were smiling and whispering.

"Promise me you'll be careful . . . okay?"

He nodded, kissing her knuckles again.

"I swear on those girls I will be Baby. I'm coming right back to you . . . no worries, okay?"

She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips so sweetly that Tig almost died. If she kissed him like this every time he had to leave he was sure he'd never be able to actually make it out of the door or off the lot. As she went to pull back, she whispered to him, her lips ghosting over his lips.

"I want you home in two days, Alex. No longer . . ."

He nodded, kissing her back.

"I'll be there Baby. Trust me . . . I'm coming home to you. Miss you."

She smiled, stepping back to pat his bike before blowing him a kiss.

"You bet your ass you do. Go have fun. Just . . . stay in one piece. Alright?"

He nodded, sinking into his seat as Chibs pulled up between them, revving his own engine.

"No need to worry dearie. I'll bring your boy back to you . . ."

Ripley laughed, dipping to kiss his scarred cheek.

"You do that Chibs. If he gets hurt it'll be all on you."

Chibs laughed, reaching over and patting Tig's shoulder as she waved and walked back to the girls. Who both went under each of her arms and leaned into her, watching as the other Sons revved their engines and got ready to follow Clay out. Tig turned to Chibs, grinning as he slid his own helmet and sunglasses on. The Scotsman grinned, nodding his head towards Ripley.

"You seem happy. She getting on good with tha lil' bits?"

Tig rolled his eyes behind his glasses but kept his grin.

"Yeah. They took to her like fish to water. Thought it was cool she could flip the Harpy and still scream at a scary movie. She's got a way with them that even Allie doesn't."

Chibs laughed, nodding as Clay pulled forward to Happy, talking about getting ready to book.

"Aye, that she does. And tis easy to tell she's insane over yer crazy ass. You got a good one now, Tigger. Don't let her slip away."

Tig laughed nodding and as Clay pulled out and they followed, he knew Chibs was right. He had a good girl. And she would make one hell of an Old Lady. When they were ready . . .


	19. Chapter 19

Tig groaned as he shifted in the seat of the rollback, taking another sip of the Patrone he and Piney had been splitting all the way back to Charming. He knew Ripley was going to kill him as they passed the Welcome to Charming sign . . . he just hoped she'd leave his leg alone. It was fucking killing him enough as it was.

Piney glanced over, slowing for a light.

"You wanna call her now? She's gonna be pissed if you don't."

Tig nodded, digging out the prepaid. Better go ahead and get this over with . . .

* * *

Gemma watched Ripley stalk around her living room, cursing as she threw a zip up hoodie on over her tank top. The girl had been in bed, both Dawn and Fawn tucked on either side of her while they'd watched some movie. And then, as she'd drifted to sleep beside the girls her cell had rung. She'd sighed, and gotten up, motioning for Gem to stay in bed. After Unser had called her and she'd found her near the construction site, she wouldn't let Gemma out of her sight. Apparently her goddaughter thought that whoever sending her the masks was a terror tactic . . . and she'd pushed Unser to go and investigate just who was opening that store.

Now, after not being able to shoot one of the men who'd beaten and raped her, she had to admit she felt safe here with Ripley. If anything the girl was as hard as brass tacks . . . and ruthless in defending the people she cared about. She knew that should anyone come for her here that-between the two of them-they would be fine. Ripley had even pulled one of Ed's Desert Eagles out of her closet, handing the gleaming massive gun to her and telling her to keep it and the extra clip. Loaded with armor piercing rounds.

She sighed, watching as Ripley moved and stuck her feet into her flip flops, pulling her curls up into a high bun atop her head. The other Desert Eagle went into her bag, along with another extended clip, and she grabbed her keys from the mirrored dresser. She turned, looking to Gemma.

"That was Tig. Apparently there was some accident and his bike went down along with Bobby's and one of the Nomads. After some other . . . _trouble_, Piney's bringing him in now and I'm meeting his ass at the ER. Are you good to stay with the girls?"

Gemma nodded, pulling the covers up around the kids as they slept.

"Yeah hun. Is everyone else okay?"

Ripley nodded.

"Yeah. Tig said Clay and Jax are fine. Still fighting like crazy though. I'll fill you in when I know more . . ."

She crossed back to the bed, dipping to kiss both of the twins on the head before kissing Gemma's cheek.

"Love you Gem."

"Love you too, Baby"

And with that she was gone.

* * *

Ripley glared at Tara's boss, who's name tag said Margaret, as she very smugly told both of them that she wasn't allowed to see Tig. And Tara should reconsider being his physician with all of the ties to SAMCRO. Ripley felt her eyes narrow as Tara tried to step between them. She'd had _enough_ of this shit. Her boyfriend had been hurt in a stupid wreck and then picked up by fucking bounty hunters, slapped around and abused and barely managed to escape with the help of the others. She was already going to tear Clay apart for trying to just leave him . . . and this little pencil pushing bitch was about to get stomped.

"I'm sorry Miss Shaw but-"

She cut her off, finally fed up to the point of not caring. Tara glared at her while the other staff members just looked on in shocked awe.

"Cut the bullshit. My name is Chaosia Ripley Guadimus-Shaw. Doctor Guadimus-Shaw. If you can't handle that then you call me Ripley or ma'am. But I am **not** Miss Shaw. Now, you're either going to go in that room and tell him I'm here, allowing him to give verbal confirmation that I am his girlfriend and the person who needs to be helping with this shit or I am going to stomp you into the fucking linoleum. And after I'm done, I'm going to place a call to your supervisors and let them know that not only will I sue them but this entire fucking hospital for discrimination, abuse and willful neglect and defamation of character."

Margaret gawked as the other doctors and nurses shifted back. Even Tara had been smart enough to shut up and stand back. She was not in the mood for this.

"You wouldn't _**dare**_-"

Ripley glowered down at her, smirking when she shifted and stepped back against the counter. She shrugged, turning to go towards the direction Tara had just come from. She'd tear this place to the fucking ground if she had to but she was going to see Tig.

"_**Try me**_, sweet cheeks. Now either tell me where my boyfriend is or call Chief Unser."

The woman paled but looked to Tara, practically throwing the chart at her before shooting back down towards her office. Ripley took the chart, holding her hand out for Tara to lead. As the other doctor rolled her eyes and motioned for her to follow she couldn't help but to gripe.

"This is why I deal with the fucking dead. I hate people when they goddamn breathe."

* * *

Tig sat up as he heard the door open, turning to see why Piney had laughed. Tara had walked in and looked about ready to kill. He raised a brow before wincing when the cut on his head pulled. What in the world would have her so fired up? He closed his eyes but opened them when he heard Tara go to lay into someone. And almost shit his heart when he saw it was Ripley.

Dressed in a pair of navy cuffed sweat pants and grey tank top, with her SAMCRO zip up hoodie Gemma had made for her hanging off one smooth shoulder he knew she'd been in bed. But the fire in her eyes and the sheer anger in her stance told him that someone had made a very big mistake. He swallowed, sending up a silent prayer it wasn't him before shaking his head. Apparently the pain killers and Patrone had worked a little _**too**_ well.

"I cannot believe you did that, Chaosia! I have to work here! I don't know what part of that you and Gemma don't seem to understand!"

Ripley glared, stepping close enough to the still glaring doctor that their noses almost touched. And Tig smirked at the random thought that floated through his head. _It would only take a centimeter more for them to kiss_ . . . oh yeah. The pain killers were working now . . .

"You may let that little troll run all over you, Knowles but I am not going to tolerate such blatant disrespect. To either myself or SAMCRO. It doesn't fly. Never has and never will."

Tara growled, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"Oh great! So because your precious ego or your stupid Club can't take a hit everything I've worked my ass off for gets to circle the drain?"

Ripley's eyes narrowed, hardening into chips of ice as she snarled at Tara. And before anyone could react, she had her by the throat, tilting her head to where she could glare down at her as she spoke very quietly and very precisely, letting no emotion leak into her voice as she verbally tore the other girl apart.

"I have worked my ass off to get to where I am today you insignificant little bitch. I did _**not**_ go to school for six years and earn two Doctorates degrees to let some sniveling little imbecile or some cowardly little hang over push me around. I am the third ranked Forensic pathologist in the fucking State and the seventh in the goddamn country. I have earned the right to be treated with respect for the sheer number of cases I help_** close**_ every fucking year. And as for the Club . . . you and the little cunt outside had better catch a fucking clue. SAMCRO may not be pure saints but they do _far _more good for Charming than they do harm."

She dropped her, turning to step to the bed as Tara coughed and rubbed her darkening throat. Tig knew he shouldn't be but he was more than a little turned on by this side of his girl. God she was deadly and so fucking hot . . . but Tara's next words killed almost every bit of appreciation he'd had for her.

"You're just as crazy as_** he**_ was . . . Jesus Christ, Ripley. As all of them. Do you really think that damn Club, that _**this**_ killer is worth this?"

* * *

Piney watched as Ripley stopped but didn't turn back as she shrugged, chuckling mirthlessly. He knew Tara couldn't see her eyes were locked on Tig but he could . . . and all he saw there terrified him. He'd always thought that Ed Guadimus had never taught Ripley anything about the Club that he didn't have to . . . but as she spoke he knew he'd been wrong. His Brother had educated his daughter . . . and had taught her _**everything **_about their way of life. And she'd apparently taken those lessons to heart from the way she spoke. She held SAMCRO to the same level as the other Nine did. As Gemma and Tig and Chibs did. The way Opie was starting to.

"My father helped build this Club . . . This family. And now that he and my mother are gone, it's my job to help keep it alive and healthy. Just like it'll be Jax and Opie's after Clay, Gemma and Piney go. It's in our_** blood**_, Tara. My mother loved this Club enough to die for it. And my father enough to_** kill**_, time and time again. How can I say it isn't if they thought so? And as far as_ him_ . . ."

She reached out, taking Tig's hand in her own, smiling at him as he gripped it tightly, pulling her closer to him.

"You love the man, you learn to love the Club . . . you accept the faults in both, change what you can and love what you can't . . . and everything else falls in line. It's a lesson you should learn . . . or you and Jax are never gonna make it. Despite _**whatever**_ there is between the two of you. The Club doesn't come first . . . but it does stand equal with you. You can't handle that then leave."

Piney watched Tara pale and knew that Ripley had hit something deeper. He sighed, watching the other girl leave the room. He shook his head, standing to leave. Ripley's eyes flashed to him and he could see the unspent tears gathering behind her lashes. He sighed, reaching out to pull her into him as she fought not to cry. Tig's hand still holding hers as buried her face into his chest. Piney shushed her, petting her hair and rubbing her shoulders.

"It's okay Baby Girl. You did good. She's always been _weird_ honey . . . and she'll come around or she won't. She knew better than to get in your face like that . . . Hell,_** I**_ know better. Look, I'm gonna take the rollback to the lot and be right back, okay?"

She nodded, pulling back and wiping at her eyes.

"Yeah Piney. God this has been a really sucky few weeks, you know?"

Piney nodded, dipping to kiss the crown of her head before turning to leave.

"I know, Princess. I know. Just stay with your boy here and keep him company. I'll call Gemma to come and stay . . ."

* * *

Tig watched Ripley shake her head, pulling her coat tighter around herself. She looked so small now, not like the woman who'd just literally reduced another person to a blubbering mess. He squeezed her hand, bringing her eyes to his. He had never in the almost nine months he knew her, ever seen her cry. And to see it now was like a red-hot poker straight to his fucking heart. _**She**_ wasn't supposed to cry. _**Ever.**_

"Let him call Gem, Baby."

She shook her head again, reaching up to let her hair fall around her as she tried to smooth it into place. He smirked, reaching up to cup her cheek. She'd let it dry without any sort of gel or mousse. She'd have to wash it again to tame it.

"I can't. She's at the house with the girls . . . plus she's been through enough. I can handle this. I just really wasn't expecting all of the fucking drama just to check on you, you know? The damn bitch almost didn't let me in the room."

Tig's eyes narrowed as Piney's shoulders set in anger. He knew that the Old Man would deal with this . . . and if not him then Clay. But right now he wanted to sleep and Ripley was staying. Piney moved, stepping out with another soft goodbye and Ripley didn't need any other invitation than for him to lift the covers for her. Her shoes were gone and her coat was tossed in the chair and she was settled in beside him before he could really react to it. He chuckled, pulling her into his good side as his hands played in her curls.

She sighed, looking up to trace his cheek before kissing his bruises.

"Does it hurt Baby?"

He nodded, pulling her tighter to him before kissing her lightly on the lips.

"Nowhere near as much as it did. Fucking bounty hunters did most of this."

Ripley nodded, kissing his heart.

"I wanna know?"

He felt his cheeks darken as he chuckled nervously and shook his head.

"Nope. Something stupid and really, really embarrassing I did under the influence of some _**very **__good_ shrooms . . . needless to say we can't take any trips to Oregon any time soon."

Ripley chuckled, snuggling into him.

"Not a problem. I am officially over Oregon."

He laughed before looking down at her, tilting her head to his as he looked at her eyes. They were clear now and expressive. Not tear clouded and cold like before. He would gut that fucking bitch for making her cry if she asked him to . . .

"Wanna tell me what that was about . . . I know you and the Doc don't exactly hold hands and sing songs but that was a bit much . . ."

Ripley sighed, closing her eyes before opening them again.

"Tara and I were friends before she packed up and left. We'd always been close but towards the end she got real self-righteous. She started to practically bail on me and Jax right after John's death and my mom's murder even though she didn't actually leave for a few more years . . . I trusted her with stuff I didn't trust anyone else with. And Jax fucking_** inked**_ her . . . she was_ supposed_ to stick around. Not bail because she suddenly wanted better . . . and couldn't handle the truth."

"Truth?"

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his.

"She saw my Pops come into the Club, bloody and battered after a bad brawl with the Mayans one night. And when he saw her there, he just acted like it was normal. He went to Clay and gave his report in Church but she kept staring at him. Finally she asked Jax why he was hurt and Jax floundered. Opie went to tell her but Jax shut him up. I got pissed, you know? I mean, the Sgt. Patch carries the weight of the rules and the scythe. They're the judge, jury and executioner for the President and the VP. And she acted like it was this big insult to her that he'd come in hurt. So I told her."

Tig kissed her, slowly and deliberately before letting her finish.

"I told her he'd been out keeping the peace. Upholding the law of SAMCRO and she freaked. Said my Pops was a murder and she would call the cops. Jax convinced her not to, to calm down and that he hadn't killed anybody. But I mean, the fucking nerve of her, you know? My Pops might not have been a saint but he wasn't what she tried to make him into. None of you are. She didn't have a lot of room to talk anyway . . ."

Tig raised a brow, curious as his hands slipped down her sides, grazing her skin as she shuddered and leaned into him. He knew he shouldn't be contemplating this-especially in a hospital bed where anyone could walk in-but he wanted her. He would get his answers and then, if she was game he was going to take her slow and hard. He leaned in, kissing his way down her neck.

"Why Baby?"

She gulped, leaning her head to the side to give him better access as she spoke.

"Something she let slip one night. It involves her and Jax. Some shit went awry and she left a few months later . . ."

She swallowed as he stopped, looking up at her as what she'd said sank in. Jesus Christ . . . no wonder they didn't get along.

"Jax know?"

She shrugged.

"No idea . . . and its not my place to tell him. I keep SAMCRO's secrets so keeping hers isn't so bad. I know she regrets it now . . . or at least I hope she does. But with Tara you never know. She's always been so odd. And I know she loves Jax now but . . ."

He nodded, getting what she wasn't saying. Speaking of saying . . .

"I get it Baby. I do. So . . . did you mean it?"

She blinked, confused before her cheeks flushed dark red and he grinned, happy to draw her away from the past to the present. And, if he had it his way, the very pleasurable near future. She shifted, trying to duck her head but he kept her there. He cupped her face, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"Did you mean it?"

She nodded so slightly he almost missed it . . . but he didn't. And it was good enough for him. Well, almost.

"Then say it for me, Baby."

She rolled her eyes, trying to pull away but he kept her there, one hand dipping down and into her sweats. And coming in contact with nothing but bare skin. He groaned. He loved it when she went commando . . . but he loved her little lacey bits too much to suggest she do it more often.

"Tig c'mon . . . you're high and you won't-"

His mouth hit hers as his fingers parted her folds, going straight for her clit. A few hard passes and she was writhing beside him as he smiled against her lips. He pulled back, kissing his way to her ear.

"I'm not _**that**_ high, Little Girl. And I want to hear you say it. Please Baby . . ."

She gasped as he pulled her onto his hips, careful of his road burned and busted up leg as he situated her over him. She went to speak as he sat up, catching her lips with his own. He loved her being on top . . . and if she would do this she was so knocking like three things off of his list. His hands moved her pants, tugging them until he had them down enough to push his way into her. He had never been so thankful for hospital gowns in his life . . . He pulled her down, letting her roll her hips as she took him a bit deeper and groaning when she sank all the way down.

Soon enough she was moving above him, his tight grip on her hips ensuring the impact of her flesh against his didn't jar him too badly. Besides, the little bit of pain was just enough not make this exciting. That and the knowledge they were probably going to get caught any second. He tugged at her shirt, pulling the collar down so he could suck one of her nipples into his mouth. The throaty moan she let loose wrapped around him and he loved it . . . but he had to keep her quiet. His hand went to cover her mouth and she sucked one of his fingers. Her tongue laving the digit the same way she did when she gave him head, lightly suckling enough to drive him crazy before one hard draw too him almost to the back of her throat. He groaned, knowing he was too close for her to do that.

He pulled his hand free, bringing her face to his as his hips raised to meet hers. She groaned again, her forehead falling to his as she clutched his shoulders tightly. She was close . . . and so was he. Both of them too high strung and too needy to last too long . . . but he wanted to hear her say it. She'd admitted it, in front of Piney and Tara . . . and she was going to tell him.

"Say it Baby Girl . . . Tell me, please."

She stiffened and before he knew it, she had his damn shoulder clenched in her teeth as she came. The bite and her tightening around him, warm and wet was enough to make him loose it. As he came, he felt her body clench him almost painfully, milking him dry as he pulled her hard down on his hips, holding her there despite the pain each little jerk of hers caused him. All the pain in the world couldn't overpower this . . . He felt his eyes roll back as he collapsed back into the bed, gasping for air as he held her to him as she quivered.

Eventually they both came down enough for him to pull out, though he mourned the loss of her heat as soon as he left it. She tugged her pants back up, grimacing as she realized she'd be stuck in them until she went home. He chuckled, pulling her against his chest and tugging the covers up and over them. As they lay there, he kissed her forehead causing her to look up at him.

"You're gonna say it, Baby Girl. Even if I have to_** keep**_ you spread across our bed to make it happen . . ."

She sighed, shaking her head as she kissed his chest and snuggled back into him. As he felt her drift to sleep he felt his own eyes grow heavy. But when she mumbled against him, they shot back open and he was fully awake again. He grinned, pulling her into him and kissing her as she groused . . . before kissing him back. Finally, he egged her into saying it again louder . . . and he loved the way it sounded.

"I love you, Alex. And I'm glad you're okay . . ."

He grinned, knowing his poor abused face would hurt tomorrow but he didn't care. He kissed her soundly before kissing his way to her ear. Loving the way she shuddered and wrapped herself tighter around him as he whispered to her.

"I love you too Baby Girl. And I am so glad to be home . . . I promised I'd come home to you . . . and I will."

"Promise?"

He nodded, settling in to go to sleep.

"You and only you Babe. Promise. Now let's get some sleep before they kick us out tomorrow . . ."

* * *

_I know the end is a bit sappy . . . but seriously with painkillers and tequila what do you expect?_


	20. Chapter 20

Ripley glared at Clay as he sat at the head of the Church table, twirling one of his rings around on his fingers as he looked anywhere but at her. Tig and the others were outside at the bar, laughing and drinking as they retold the story to Tig's rescue . . . and it had only served to remind her that she and Clay were long overdue a talk.

Finally, he sighed and sat up straighter looking her dead in the eye as she continued to glare over him. She'd pushed him into his seat as soon as he was close enough and had refused to move . . . and the tactic her mother of all people had briefed her on was working like a charm. She fought to keep from smirking as he shifted a tiny bit. They all seemed to forget that she had the combined knowledge of both her Pops and her Mother tucked away for when she needed it. And some of the things she'd been told had seemed ridiculous at the time . . . she was beginning to see they were true nonetheless. Clay Morrow really_** did**_ hate to be stared at for too long. No wonder he never crossed her mother much . . .

"Jesus! Enough with the glare. You wanna yell at me for it then yell already!"

Ripley sank into the chair to his right . . . Her father and Tig's chair as she continued to stare at him for a few more moments before beginning calmly. She wasn't going to yell . . . she just wanted to know where his brain went.

"Care to explain to me why leaving my boyfriend to the mercy of bounty hunters seemed like a good play . . . or was it just some random thing to piss Jax off?"

Clay's gaze darkened as he leaned forward and Ripley knew she'd hit some of it on the head . . . but not all of it.

"Look, Rip. I made a call I had to, one that your old man would've stood behind . . . you of all people know that. I was going to get him . . . I was just-"

"Just going to wait until the reinforcements got there and the damn headhunters had Tig across State lines, right? Jax and Piney were right on this, Clay. Tig would've been gone. And you were going to let it happen!"

* * *

Clay sighed, shaking his head as he stood and came to stand in front of her. Piney had told him about her little breakdown at St. Thomas . . . and he was going to go have a word with an official about the treatment of his Brothers and her as soon as he wrapped this up . . . but he could see that he needed to do this. Ripley had stayed in his corner through most of the bullshit with Jax, really refusing to say much other than they needed to figure it out before it did too much damage to repair. But this was weighing heavy on her . . . proof that for all of her coldness and ability to do what she needed to that she was still very much Millennia's little girl.

He reached out, pulling her into a one-armed hug as he rubbed her back, the other hand treading through her curls. He felt the moisture on his shirt and knew he'd fucked up enough to make her cry . . . something that had Piney in stitches last night and this morning when they'd all rolled in. Ripley had hardly ever cried as a kid . . . even when she'd been hurt. He'd barely seen any tears at her mother's funeral and none at Ed's . . . though they all knew that was because of the shock. And now she'd cried twice in two days?

He knelt to eye level, wiping away the stray tears as she closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure. Something was wrong with their girl . . . and he needed to find out what. But first he would set this right. His mistakes had hurt too many members of his family already. They weren't going to hurt her too.

"I'm sorry, Baby girl. I know it was a shitty call . . . but . . . I thought it was best. If they'd jumped with him I was going to find him. I swear. I wouldn't let them take him from us-or _**you**_-permanently. I'm not going to let anything do that . . .Okay?"

She nodded, leaning into his touch the way she used to as a kid. She'd never been afraid of them, any of them, even when Ed had strolled in with her as a baby. She'd always loved to be around them . . . and had accepted their usual bruises and scars and bloody knuckles as normal even when she knew they weren't. She was a daughter of SAMCRO from the first day she'd come in, giggling and trying to nose her way through everything she could touch. And by God he would keep the promise he'd just made.

"Okay . . . just . . . He's real important to me, Clay. I don't want him hurt or worse. And while I know what goes with that Patch, how he's the Club's . . . just remember he's mine too . . . okay?"

Clay nodded, remembering a very similar conversation almost thirty years before. Only it had been Millennia asking for Ed . . . God, it was amazing to see the cycle at work here. But where Millennia had kept to the surface, barely involved with any of the true workings of SAMCRO save what she had to be, Ripley had jumped in feet first. And while she knew what it was more than her mother had . . . she would still defend them-Tig- to the death if she had to. Just like Millie had for Ed.

"Okay, Baby Girl. Now, let me go grab your man. Because I have a stop to make and new business owner to greet."

Ripley looked up at him, brow raised.

"Who?"

"Ethan Zobelle. Started a cigar shop here and I've got to make my round with him. Smug bastard dropped in the night of Bobby's bash and dropped boxes at my feet. I owe him a visit."

She got very quiet before nodding slowly. She glanced back as the main part of the Clubhouse as Gemma's voice carried to them and something flashed in her eyes that made his gut clench. He'd noticed she'd taken to being around his wife if Tara wasn't . . . though if what Tig had told him was true then he and the little Prince's doctor needed to have a nice chat about how she spoke to his goddaughter. He'd just chalked it up to Ripley being protective of her since the wreck . . . but now he was beginning to wonder. He shook himself as she turned back and smiled at him, beaming as Gemma pushed the doors open and shook her head.

Gemma was going through some shit, what with the menopause and the wreck . . . and if Ripley knew anything about something else she'd tell him. She was a good kid and would do right by them. By Gemma.

He smirked up at Gemma before she glared down at him, making him squirm. Jesus. Twice in one goddamn day.

"What did you do? Hm? You better not have made her cry Clarence Morrow or so help me I'll chop you into pieces and feed you to the damn bird."

Clay blinked, then glared down at Ripley as she started to giggle. Soon her giggles were full blown laughter as she laid her head on the table and clutched her sides. Gemma joined her, making him feel torn between elation that his wife was actually laughing . . . and pissed that she was laughing at him. He settled on grumpy as he swatted the back of Ripley's head and turned the chair, pushing her out of it and onto her feet. Which just made her go to Gemma and lean on her, laughing all the harder as he glared at them.

"Okay you two fruitcakes, get out of here! And send your busted up _**Old Man**_ in here you Brat!"

* * *

Tig turned, beer in hand as he saw Ripley and Gemma come pouring out of Church, laughing so hard they were barely standing. Gemma seemed happy as she leaned on Ripley while his girl had huge tears running down her flushed cheeks. He raised a brow at them before shrugging and turning back to Chibs. Only to hear Clay's bellow and feel his heart stop.

The guys had taken to calling Ripley his Old Lady after the little show yesterday . . . . and while it didn't bother him in the least they knew not to say anything to her about it. He hadn't asked her yet . . . was planning on waiting a bit longer before he did. But to hear Clay practically decree it was . . . odd. The few Croweaters present turned, glaring at the laughing girl clinging to Gemma before turning and snubbing her completely. _OH Hell._ That wasn't going to go over well when it finally blew.

Ripley however surprised all of them as she turned back towards Church, grabbing Gemma and starting towards the front door. It amazed Tig how much younger and happier Gemma looked as she laughed with Ripley, running as she called over her shoulder. Like whatever black cloud that had settled over her had lifted . . . however temporarily.

"Go and get him yourself, Morrow! I'm stealing your Old Lady and we're going shopping . . ."

Tig watched, flabbergasted as Clay stood and walked to the door but they were already gone. And as soon as they were outside he rolled his eyes skyward and started cursing. He turned to them, growling at their stunned impressions and his own soured. He pointed into the room and ground out through clenched teeth.

"Church. Now."

Before slamming the door. Tig didn't know who started it but within a few seconds they were all laughing their asses off as they made their way to the table. Lord they had done something bad to put Clay in such a sour mood . . . but he couldn't shake the pride that Ripley hadn't denounced him as her Old Man.

* * *

Four days later, Ripley was standing slightly behind Tig as he hugged the twins goodbye. Allison had refused to meet them at the house, opting to wait at the garage. Which had been fine. Gemma had been out there, where she'd taken to staying most of the times he wasn't at the garage and Ripley wasn't at the morgue, and had helped load their bags in her Escalade and letting the girls actually ride bike to their mother. Ripley herself had brought out her own bike, letting Dawn ride with her while Fawn rode with Tig. Something that had Allison ready to give birth to kittens in the TM lot when she saw it.

But she wouldn't say too much to Ripley . . . even as Luanne pulled up and started chatting quietly with her and Gemma. She smirked, winking to Gem as the bitch glared from her spot in the car. Too afraid of getting her ass whipped again probably . . .

The twins were teary eyed and-in a massive show of maturity she was sure the guys hadn't possessed before today-all of the men had piled into the Clubhouse to give Tig his moment with his daughters. But she still wasn't going to point out the moisture she'd noticed collecting in his eyes . . . Dawn clung to him even as he went to stand while Fawn pulled away and ran to her, burying her face in Ripley's chest . . . and almost knocking her down with the force of impact. Dawn was there not long after her sister and Ripley knew her own eyes were watering as she wrapped her arms around them. She'd welcomed these two hellions into her home because she loved their father to death . . . but now she knew she would be hard pressed to deny she would miss them as well. They were sweet girls . . . and they loved their father.

Fawn's next words broke her heart.

"Can't we stay?"

Ripley sighed, pulling them tighter as Tig glared at Allison for honking the horn. God if she could get away with killing that woman then she would . . . She dipped her head, pulling back just enough to look both of them in the eye. Big watery, tear clouded blue eyes just like their father's.

"If it were up to me-especially to your Dad-then yes. But your Mom is the one with primary custody. So you have to go back with her right now . . . But I swear on my bike that if the two of you want to come back you are always welcomed. That room is yours . . . and our house is just as much your home as ours. Got me?"

They nodded, turning to hug Tig again before going to get in the car. Allison's bitching could be heard as soon as the door opened . . . and Ripley had to loop herself under Tig's arm and practically weight him down to keep him in place. He glared at the car before waving to the girls . . . watching as they pulled out of the lot and started on their way back to Berkley.

She reached up, kissing under his jaw.

"I swear that if you ever want to I will go to court with you to fight for custody. All you have to do is ask Alex and it's done."

He nodded, kissing her forehead before turning towards the Clubhouse. Luanne and Gemma were already at the door, talking quietly as they watched them approach. She nodded to them, stopping to reach up and kiss him as they went ahead inside, the sounds of the party spilling out and into the cooling dusk air. The kiss started slow and sweet, meant to comfort and console . . . but he wanted no part of it. Soon his mouth was moving of hers quickly as he pushed her up against the side of the Clubhouse, lifting her off of her feet and wrapping her legs around his waist. She gasped, sucking in the cool air as his hands went to her jeans, trying to force them open.

She shook herself, head spinning as she cupped his face.

"Tig . . . we need to stop . . ."

He snorted, latching his mouth onto her neck as he finally worked her jeans open. As soon as the cold air hit her the warmth of his hands replaced it. His thumb found her clit while his fingers dipped into her . . . and within practically seconds he had her writhing against the metal siding as he played with her, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. He chuckled, kissing his way up to her ear as she felt the invisible band in her abdomen start to tighten. God she was so fucking close . . .

"Come for me Baby . . ."

She did, head lulling back against the now cold building as she fought to keep from crying out. He smirked, slowly pulling his fingers from her still quivering pussy before bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean. He leaned in, pressing his cheek against her neck as he just held her to him. And let her hold him. She sighed, knowing that this had been more for his control issues than her actual enjoyment . . . but she couldn't force herself to feel badly about it. He'd needed it . . . so she was okay with him taking it. For now.

* * *

Tig stepped back, resituating himself in his jeans as Ripley fastened hers . . . he wished she'd left on the flowing skirt she'd had on when he got home . . . but he understood the practicality of the jeans for riding. And his girls had loved being able to ride with them . . . He reached out, pulling her into him and pressing his lips against her forehead. Her deep sigh told him how much she'd enjoyed their little tryst. Despite her initial protests. After a few moments, he pulled away and tossed his arm over her shoulders.

"Ready to face the music, Baby?"

She shrugged, leaning into him.

"Ready to get a drink. The house is going to seem so empty without them . . . you know?"

He nodded, pulling her into him a bit tighter. He loved that she'd taken to the girls . . . and he could see that she was honestly missing them. Just like him and Gemma.

"I know, Baby. I know. C'mon. Let me buy you a drink."

She nodded, kissing his cheek. And followed him into the Clubhouse without a second glance.


	21. Chapter 21

_Be warned, the beginning is slightly gruesome . . . poor, poor girl . . ._

* * *

Ripley stepped carefully around the body of the fourth victim, trying her hardest to not focus on the terror evident in the girl's fixed sightless eyes. They'd found her early this morning . . . and she had no fucking clue what they were going to do. This girl was just barely outside of the Charming city limits . . . and this guy-whoever he was- was getting bolder. A _**lot **_bolder.

The girl had been almost cleaved completely in-two while the rest of her limbs were barely still attached . . . . Actually, the only thing keeping them from being totally separated were the actual tendons and ligaments that had escaped being cut. And judging by the way the left arm was dangling they weren't going to last much longer. The oddest thing about this was the girl had been practically crucified . . . hanging from the back of the junked tow truck, barely suspended by the chains and large hooks that had been speared through her back. She was suddenly glad that none of the guys had come with her . . . because she knew they wouldn't let her stay active if they saw this.

She swallowed the bile trying to rise in her throat, forcing herself to stay calm as she stepped up and onto the flatbed portion of the truck. The intestines were hanging, arranged to drape around the genital area like a fucking skirt with pieces hanging onto the bed of the vehicle. This case had officially moved up into her top ten worst ever. And she had a feeling it would keep climbing.

She stepped closer, careful to keep her feet off of the entrails as she moved to examine the remains. Trammel was already puking in the bushes while Unser and Hale were keeping a pretty good distance from the whole thing. Actually, the only person brave enough to come any closer that twenty feet, was the green Assistant Medical Examiner from Lodi. Jordan Nickels . . . a very sweet kid that was very, very pale at the moment. But he kept taking pictures and making notes into the tape recorder . . . stopping every few minutes to gag before manning up and continuing. She would remember to keep a close eye on him. Anybody willing to push through this level of horror in their first month was worth noticing.

She felt her stomach churn as she saw the cervix, clearly visible considering the amount of damage to abdominal cavity and the removal of the intestines . . . Bright blue. She closed her eyes. Turning away from the corpse long enough to gather herself. But it was long enough that Unser noticed.

He and Hale both started a slow trek towards her, Hale watching her cautiously as Unser kept shaking his head. When they were close enough to shout they stopped. Ripley glared at Hale. The man had treated her like crap when he found out that she'd returned to her SAMCRO roots . . . and she had been overly cold with him. The only piece of evidence she'd tampered with hadn't led to anything but a dead Mayan fucking a whore in a report. She shook her head, still amazed that she'd been so taken with Tig even then . . . and now he shared her bed almost every night. She'd even told him to not renew his lease and just move in with her if he wanted . . . something he'd been slowly doing anyway.

Unser's question brought her out of her reverie . . . and right back into glaring at Hale when she noticed the look he was giving her. Today was one of her off days . . . and she'd been out and about with Lyla when they'd called. She knew the dark skinny jeans and form fitting black turtleneck sweater weren't what she normally wore . . . or the gray leather riding boots with the ruffles going up the side to stop at her knees. But she was allowed to dress differently when she wasn't at the damn morgue. Her glasses went to slip and she pushed them back up with a gloved finger, grimacing as she noticed the red smear on the side of her nose.

Today was just getting better and better . . .

"What's up Doc?"

She sighed, turning back to the corpse.

"Same MO as the others . . . but the mutilation is more aggressive. Same small caliber bullet wounds to the head and neck . . . but this was one is different, Chief."

Hale huffed, stepping a bit closer before stepping back as the wind shifted directions. She couldn't help the mean spirited smirk that spread across her lips at his greening complexion. Poor little boy wanted to play super cop but he couldn't stomach the things that went with it. This case would probably draw FBI attention now . . . if not for sure when another poor girl popped up. She looked to the girl's face, knowing she _seemed __**very**_familiar . . . but then again after the first three the small differences that made them separate people had melted into nothing until all that remained in the forefront where the similarities . . . but still . . . She knew this girl.

"She's a little older . . . though not by much. And she was pregnant."

Hale stopped, going white as a ghost as Unser cursed, running a hand over his balding head. His hair hadn't started growing back yet . . . and she was beginning to wonder how strong his chemo treatments were . . . or if he was still taking them. He looked back up, more than a little upset at that piece of information.

"You _**sure**_ Doc?"

Hale jumped in, ready to ask a million questions.

"How can you tell?"

She turned, raising a brow before rolling her eyes and pointing to the indicators.

"The widening of the pelvic bone usually only happens months before or right after childbirth. The degree tells me she wasn't very far along, maybe two months but I'll need to run tests to get a definite answer . . . But the cervix doesn't lie. They're blue. That only happens with one thing boys . . ."

Unser nodded as Hale closed his eyes, lips moving in a silent prayer. Ripley sighed, shaking her head. This just got a whole lot more complicated than it had before she'd answered the phone.

* * *

Gemma and the others watched Tig pace the hospital waiting room, not the least bit concerned that he looked like a lunatic. Jax and Opie had gone out to try and find Ripley but she wasn't answering the phone. No matter _what_ number called. Something that had Tigger up in arms seeing as in Chibs was in surgery as they sat here . . . fighting for his life after the nice little car bomb ordeal.

She sighed, watching Bobby try and talk to him only to get snapped at before Clay clamped a hand on his shoulder. She knew Tig was worried, hell they all were, but he needed to get a grip on this or he was going to get hit. The sound of the door opening caused all of them to turn, Tig's neck almost breaking with the speed his eyes landed on Jax as he pushed into the room, followed by Tara.

Tig's eyes narrowed on Tara and Gemma had to wonder what it was about . . . before Jax spoke up and brought them back to the present.

"Opie called Unser and found Ripley. Seems she's at a crime scene. Another girl and worse than the others . . . right outside of Charming. Ope's gonna wait with her while she does what she's got to . . . and then he's bringing her here . . ."

Gemma watched every bit of tension drain from Tig's shoulders as he digested the news. He nodded, sagging into the seat beside Bobby and clapping his shoulder apologetically. She shook her head. Tig wasn't one to fly off the handle, despite his random and crazy acts. So for him to act like this . . . she looked to Clay, her eyes catching his as he smirked and shrugged.

At least he thought it was a good thing . . .

Tara's voice, however, brought the malice right back to his eyes as she told them about Chibs.

"He's in surgery . . . and as stable as we can get him. But there's a bleed in his brain. Hopefully, it'll take care of itself but if it doesn't we'll have to go in and relieve the pressure."

Clay and the others stilled, the knowledge that their brother was hurt and badly settling on all of them hard. She sighed, looking to Jax. Her boys were going to do something very; very stupid . . . she could just feel it . . .

* * *

Ripley glanced at the time as she paced her bedroom, more than a little worried. Opie had followed her to the hospital before going to the Club with the others . . . and Tig had barely let her out of his sight before he'd had to leave . . . but not in the way she'd wanted him to. Chibs had come out of surgery and was stable but critical for the next twenty four hours . . . something she had been banking on after Opie had filled her in. So she'd been expecting the concerned faces and overall undertone of pure sorrow and anger when she'd walked in . . . but not the tongue lashing she got from her boyfriend.

She'd barely been in the damn door before he'd dug into her, glaring at her coldly as he practically gave her the SAMCRO version of the Spanish Inquisition. Which, with what she'd just picked up and had to write down had been a very bad idea on his part. The others had watched them fight like they were terrified to move until Clay and Gemma had stepped forward to the try and separate them.

Tig's parting words though had been like salt in a wound . . .

"_Goddamn it, Little Girl! Do you have any idea how stupid it is to not answer that fucking phone? With everything going on I don't need to worry about you on top of it! Jesus Christ how can someone so fucking brilliant be so fucking stupid?"_

She closed her eyes now, trying to fight off the tears threatening to spill in the safety of her own home. She knew now that he was just worried and reacting badly to the stress . . . but she hadn't been in a very forgiving state of mind then. So she'd risen to his challenge. And very quietly, while Gemma held Tig back and Clay kept himself between them, she'd talked to him the same way she had Tara. No emotion and no regard for the damage she was doing.

"_I didn't do __**anything **__but go to work, Tig. You know that thing I do for a fucking living? I did it long before you and I will do it after you, too. And as far as __**you**__ having to worry about__** me**__ . . . __**don't **__. . . there's no need for you to concern yourself with __**me**__ or anything to do with me. I'm going home . . ."_

Which is exactly where she'd been for the past five hours. And she hadn't heard shit from him or any of the others . . . something that terrified her to death. Finally, she gave up trying to stay at the house and went into her closet. She pulled on a pair of loose cropped jeans and one of Tig's dark blue wife beaters-refusing to let the sight of his things hanging in her closet stab her heart like it wanted to- before shrugging into her burgundy zip up hoodie. She slid her feet into her flip flops before grabbing her keys and going towards the Chevelle. She would call Gemma and they could at least sit together as they waited . . . and if Clay was with her-and she found him at the Club surrounded by Croweaters- then she and Tig Trager were done. No matter how much she loved him she was not putting up with this . . .

* * *

Tara watched Ripley and Gemma sit in the office of Teller Morrow Automotive and listen to Rosen, neither of their faces showing the shock she knew they were all feeling. Clay, Jax, Tig, Juice and Bobby had been arrested . . . and Opie was out and doing things on this side of the fence trying to help them. Jesus . . . how in the world were they both so damn _**calm**_?

Ripley seemed more at ease than Gemma, her fingering the ring on her left hand ever-so-often the only indication that this man wasn't telling them about the price of rice in China . . . She shook her head. She knew Ripley had always been a hard ass, even when they were younger . . . Hell, she'd saved her ass a few times when she'd gone to fight over Jax. But to see it here, now that they were adults was just eerie . . . the same way that she felt when Tig had glared at her yesterday.

"The bail is probably astronomical . . . but I think my house should do it . . ."

Tara looked up, nodding as she agreed with Gemma.

"Mine too . . ."

Rosen shook his head, scratching his brow with his thumb before looking at them.

"That would be enough for Clay, Gemma. Maybe Jax . . . the bail is . . . the bail is almost undoable."

"What about my property? The house and the acreage that goes with it? That's over seventy acres . . . it should be enough, with the others right?"

Rosen sighed before shaking his head.

"Sorry, Ms. Shaw but no. With both Tig and Bobby's priors . . . and the attack being on a church group . . . no judge is going to let them just walk away free. Not with separate bails like that. It's all together or nothing. Jacob Hale's friend is hearing the case . . ."

Gemma swore while Ripley closed her eyes and Tara just wanted to cry.

They were _so _screwed . . .


	22. Chapter 22

_Okay. A few things. I've said before that Ripley __**is**__ bisexual . . . and that it __**would **__be a part of this. And this, boys and girls is one of those parts. If you're not up for that then you can skip this chapter and go the next . . . because that's the main context of this . . . well, that and her and Tig making up. I'm trying to stay within the realm of the M rating without going over it . . . so it __**should **__be fine to just skim . . . but hey, don't like don't read. I swear it won't offend me. I was just tired of always seeing Tig in threesomes with another guy (usually Happy). While they're awesome and killer to read I couldn't help but wonder why no one was taking him to the side you__** know**__ he'd love. I mean Tig __**loves **__women, right? We've seen him with more than one . . . and the idea of putting him with someone that could at least understand some of that love (addiction, obsession, passion, yada yada yada) was too good to pass up. So . . . yeah. Here we go. _

* * *

Ripley knew she needed to go home and sleep . . . but she just couldn't. She'd gone and tried to help Gemma as much as possible before giving up and coming into work. This didn't seem as hopeless as what was going on in her personal life. She sighed, looking over the poor girl again before shaking her head. At least she knew now why the girl had seemed so familiar. She worked in one of the shops on Main Street . . . and had always been overly kind when she'd gone in with Gemma to shop and chat. And now, that she was on her slab and in pieces, Ripley remembered her excited story about how she had just found out she was pregnant . . . and she was going to Lodi to celebrate with her fiancé and his family. They were keeping the same wedding date and Ripley had made a point to get her address . . . for both the bridal and baby shower gifts she'd planned to get the sweet girl . . .

Ripley turned to go back to her desk and almost screamed. There in the flesh behind her was one of the only reasons leaving Long Beach had been so hard. London Aikido had always been attractive . . . and to see her here, now with everything going on was . . . probably the best and worst thing in the world. She smiled; her hand going to her chest as London smirked, flipping her dark chocolate curls out of her face. She'd called earlier and she'd ignored it, trying to keep the line clear in case Tig decided to use his one phone call for her instead of the Club . . . Like _that_ was going to happen.

Gemma had already been to see Oswald and so far they were still trying to figure out a way to get the boys out . . . since the tycoon had said no. Word from Tara-via Bobby of all people-was that Jax and Clay had gotten into a brawl and Juice had been shanked. They were unprotected and the vultures were coming out to feast. Too bad for them they weren't dead yet . . .

She leaned back against her desk, staring at her ex-lover skeptically.

"Okay . . . not that I'm not thrilled but what are you doing here, London?"

The other woman smiled, her plump lips spreading into a look that was pure fucking sin as her jade green eyes hinted at a million secrets. She'd been modest before . . . London wasn't attractive she was gorgeous . . . Her skin was creamy, just barely tanned and with cheeks littered with freckles-a gift from her American mother's Irish ancestry like her eyes. That coupled with the thick curly hair, high cheekbones and lithe build it was no wonder the girl was a model. And she had always come when Ripley called. Too bad she didn't remember calling this time . . .

"I'm doing some work in Lodi and figured I'd come visit you. Maybe take you to a late dinner if you don't care . . ."

Ripley looked her over, finally noticing the black dress shirt-unbuttoned just enough to be sexy without being overly so-and the form fitting designer jeans, the very tips of her alligator leather red stilettos peeking beneath the hem. Her makeup was natural and her hair was down and wild, curling much the same way Ripley's own was . . . She shrugged, shedding her lab coat and going to gather her purse. She had her phone of Tig called and it had been almost a year since she'd seen her friend. What the hell . . .

"Sure. Just let me go home and change first . . ."

* * *

London nodded, smirking as she extended her bent arm for Ripley to take. Which she did as she shook her head and cut the lights on their way out. Today just got a lot more interesting . . .

London glanced around Ripley's living room, nodding as she saw the style she knew her ex had always loved shining through. Ripley could make a shoe box feel like home-proven by her tiny one bedroom apartment in Long Beach- but this place was practically a showroom. She smiled, moving down the hallway towards the bathroom.

She stopped, peeking into the other bedroom . . . and was floored. The room was gorgeous but it was obviously not done for anyone over twenty one . . . She turned, going into the bathroom. It matched both the rest of the house and the guest bedroom . . . something she knew must've driven Ripley _crazy_ before it was finished. She always _did _want everything done now.

She moved back down the hall and through the living room, stopping to bask in the pure bliss of the dining room before making her way into the kitchen. She nosed around a few minutes before catching sight of the black-and-white Polaroid on the fridge. Ripley with a man obviously a good bit older, leaning together and smirking for the camera as they held each other. Even without color, she could tell the man's eyes were a startling light color, much like Rip's . . . and he was devastatingly handsome in a roguish way. She reached out, tracing their smiling faces before letting her hand drop.

This was the type of man she would date once in a blue moon . . . while she knew Ripley was the same with_** her**_. A fact that usually didn't bother her seeing as how when they were together it was for months and months at a time. But seeing her here, with this man worried her. Ripley had always sworn to like men and women equally, despite her lack of consistent girlfriends . . . but this man could be dangerous. More so than the brooding pathologist who proposed. Whoever this was could very easily keep Ripley strictly to men . . . or at least away from her.

She heard someone step into the room and turned, only to have to remember to breathe again. Ripley had changed into a slinky little black shirt that seemed to caress her curves as it draped off of her shoulders, leaving them completely bare. The sleeves billowed to her elbows, draping and swaying before cinching into the banded cuff hem. The rest of the shirt tapered down, stretching over her breasts and hips before doing the same as the sleeves, the hem resting low on her hips. Letting the expertly distressed jeans begin and show patches of smooth, tanned skin. Black stilettos and dangling earrings completed the look . . . and the dark eye shadow she'd donned with the glossy nude lips.

London smiled, stepping towards her. She might lose Ripley to whoever the mystery man was eventually but she wasn't going to tonight. Hell, if he was willing to share . . . they might all just get along smashingly.

* * *

Ripley wasn't above saying that, as she and London came stumbling back into her house a few scant hours before sunrise that she'd missed the other woman like crazy. When they weren't dating or arguing they were the best friends the other could ask for . . . and tonight had just proved it. London had listened patiently, keeping pace as they drank and danced in Lodi before they finally decided to call it a night and go back to her house. She'd offered to drop her at her hotel as they'd gone to get in the Chevelle, but London had refused. She'd then stretched to her toes and wrapped her arms around her neck, planting a very sweet tasting and hungry kiss on her lips.

Ripley shuddered, remembering the kiss and their audience. Whenever they went out they had always turned heads . . . but little spectacles like that had always ensured they had viewers. And when London didn't want to be discrete she didn't . . . too bad it had happened where she had to go for work from time-to-time. She shrugged, shutting the door and barely catching herself as London pounced.

Hands roamed as lips met and she suddenly felt bad that Tig wasn't there to see it. He had said he wanted to watch if the opportunity ever raised . . . too bad it popped up while he couldn't. She sighed against her lips, chuckling at the throaty needy moan she got in return.

As the dark haired girl stepped back, Ripley knew she should probably send her to the guest room. But as the shirt started to unbutton-revealing dark red lacey lingerie to match the heels- and Lon started her trek up the steps she found she wasn't very keen on sleeping by herself anymore . . . Besides, _**did**_ she owe Tig a night for his little romp with the Croweaters the night of Gemma's rape.

And it was with that thought that she followed the other girl upstairs . . . and didn't think about anything else but making her scream.

* * *

Tig walked into Ripley's house early the next day, sore from the state's hospitality and the abuse they'd suffered inside. He just wanted to go upstairs and crawl in bed with his girlfriend and take his sweet time convincing her to forgive him for being an ass days before. _If she didn't kill him first._ So it was very safe to say that, after shedding his clothes in the sitting area, he was not expecting to see _**two**_ heads in the bed. At first, as he stepped closer, he thought that maybe it was Gemma. He'd come in a few times to find them asleep and the TV still going . . . But he was sorely mistaken.

Whoever was in bed with his girlfriend was definitely not Gemma . . . and dear God she was fucking gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as Ripley but damn . . .

He held his breathe as she moved before filling himself get incredibly hard at the sight of her rolling and snuggling deeper into Ripley's bare chest, planting a small kiss against her neck as she settled and drifted back to sleep. Tig groaned, bypassing the bed completely and heading straight for the shower. Fuck sleep. He needed ice cold water.

Now.

* * *

Ripley sighed, stretching as she heard the water start . . . before looking down at London more than a little confused. If she was here then who was in the shower? She moved, easing herself out bed carefully before draping the covers around her sleeping lover and going to investigate. She _knew_ she hadn't left it on all night . . . Their shower had been intense but not _**that**_ intense . . .

As she pushed the door open she saw Tig standing beneath the spray, visibly shivering as he groaned into the water . . . She raised a brow before noticing why. Oh. She pulled open the door, trying not to squeak at the frigid water before she adjusted the temperature . . . and found herself pushed against the tile wall hard enough to knock the air out of her lungs.

Tig's mouth worked its way from her own lips down her neck to her chest, tracing each hickey London had left and biting over them hard. She groaned, relaxing against the wall as he worked to lay claim to every part of her body. Soon enough, his mouth was on her and his tongue was circling her clit, sucking as she bucked her hips against him. He chuckled, nipping at the bud of nerves once before kissing her nether lips.

"Who eats you better? _**Hm?**_ _Me_ or _**her**_?"

Ripley groaned as he kissed her again before drawing her clit between his teeth and biting. She yelped and he laughed, soothing the abused little bundle with his tongue before standing and pushing himself into her heat to the hilt. He set a hard, fast pace as he crushed her to him, asking her questions the whole time.

"Who fucks you better?"

She groaned, her head falling to his shoulder as he laughed, still fucking her as hard as he could. When she came around him, he cooed to her, kissing her neck.

"Oh good girl. I bet she doesn't make you come like that . . . does she?"

Finally Ripley had enough and leaned up, taking his earlobe in her teeth, sucking hard before releasing it with a loud pop. She smirked as he groaned, quickening his pace. He was so close now . . .

"You don't have to worry_** Alex**_ . . . London doesn't mind _sharing_ . . ."

She grinned as he growled, burying himself to the hilt as she felt him flood her. The orgasm that followed his was unexpected and sharp, leaving her drained as she listened to him speak between the kisses he was leaving on her neck and shoulder. God he needed to go to prison more often . . .

"You are_** so**_ lucky I love the **fuck** out of you, Baby girl . . . and that_** I**_ don't mind sharing you with that pretty little thing in your bed. I will _however_ kill any other_** man**_ that touches you . . . got it?"

She nodded, meeting his lips lazily as he knelt under the water, letting the spray fall over their shoulders as he held her. She clung to him as much as she could, loving the way he rubbed her now very sore back as he slipped out of her with a groan.

"I missed you Alex . . ."

He smirked, kissing her temple.

"I missed you too Ripley. Sorry for being such a douche before. You worried me . . ."

She cut him off, kissing him.

"It okay. I was a bitch because of work. Let's just dry off and go to bed . . . okay?"

He raised a brow, obviously not clear on how as she laughed at him.

"Sure your _company_ won't mind a **man** in your bed?"

She smirked, nipping his jaw.

"_**Nope.**_ As a matter of fact . . . we talked last night about a certain gift request last night . . ."

She didn't even get to finish as he lifted her up and carried her out of the shower. She knew just how to get him . . .

* * *

Tig lay there, hours later, with Ripley and London spread out beside him . . . and he was so fucking glad he'd found a girl who loved sex-and if he was honest, _women_-as much as he did. Ripley was curled into his side, her head on his chest while their guest was curled around her, their hands intertwined as they rested across his stomach. He smirked, reaching down and laying his on top of theirs. Ripley had surprised him . . . and he while he knew him coming in was just a bonus he was sure she would've told him about her little romp with her girlfriend. His smirk turned dark and lecherous as he had a brilliant idea. He knew if she ever caught him she'd kill him but there was no way in Hell he wasn't taking a picture of the two slumbering against him . . . and sending it to Chibs and Happy just to fucking gloat. He and Hap had shared more than a few Croweaters . . . but both the former Nomad and Chibs seemed insistent on brushing off his stories of numerous threesomes with women. Since neither had ever had a true one-they'd only fucked one then go on to fuck the other while someone always ended up watching-they were convinced that while it might happen one day . . . it sure as fuck wasn't happening within Charming.

And if he did, Chibs would have a nice message waiting on him when he woke up . . . and drug his carcass out of that bed.

He stretched, grabbing his regular cell before fiddling with it enough to take the picture. As he snapped one, Ripley turned, snuggling into London and burying her nose in the other girl's curls. Which made London crane her neck for Ripley to nuzzle there before they both settled back into a deep sleep. He groaned. Call him sick or twisted or perverse or whatever else you could think of . . . but watching **them**_ together_ had been better than _**any **_fucking porn he'd ever seen. Even the other Croweaters that would occasionally make out for the Sons hadn't been as hot . . . mainly because he'd seen undeniable proof that they were_** both**_ enjoying it. He shuddered, trying to push that thought away so he could finally sleep. London was heading back to Lodi later this afternoon and he wanted to see if he could just watch at least once . . .

He groaned again, settling in and draping his arm over the two of them, pulling Ripley tight against him before kissing her neck. She smiled sleepily . . . mumbling in her sleep before drifting back off. He smirked, closing is eyes. This was why he didn't mind the other girl. Other than being an insane turn on he knew he had nothing to worry about . . . She might play with other people from time-to-time, just like him, but she was his.

As he drifted to sleep, he couldn't help but replay her words in his mind . . . loving the way they sounded.

"_Love you Alex . . . I'm glad you're home . . ." _

_

* * *

_

Jax grumbled as he and Opie pulled into Ripley's drive, Tara following in the Cutlass. He had no clue why she wanted to do this now but she had insisted on apologizing to both Tig and Ripley for the way she'd acted before. Opie had come along for the entertainment value alone and to make sure the apology actually happened. Because if it didn't then he was under strict orders to tell Gemma.

None of them noticed the second car parked beside Ripley's Chevelle or Tig's bike . . . and no one thought to call before they let themselves into her home. Opie however, upon seeing no one downstairs, suggested coming back later. Especially after what happened last time. Tara, however, would have none of it and marched right up the steps. To march right back down them blood red a few seconds later.

When they asked, she refused to say, only shaking her head so Jax plowed right up the steps, Opie following. What waited on them, however was nowhere near as bad as what they'd walked in on before . . . and a million times worse all at once. Ripley was in the middle of her huge bed, Tig behind her with an arm draped over her waist. Both nude as the day they were born and sleeping soundly . . . the oddity was the dark haired woman curled into Ripley's chest, her arm draped beneath Tig's as she slept, holding their friend . . . who was also nude and giving them a very nice view of a very fine ass. That Ripley's hand was over and had in a sleepy grip.

Opie didn't know what else to do but try not to laugh as Jax watched the three of them sleep. He'd known Ripley swung both ways for _**years**_ . . . and that Tig was into _**way**_ more shit than any of the rest of them . . . but seriously? The newcomer sighed, rolling over and letting them see that not only was she gorgeous but she was definitely at least part Asian.

Opie grabbed Jax, pulling him down the steps and out the front door, Tara following while Jax grumbled.

"Oh that is so not fucking fair. I get yelled at for going to jail and stuck on diaper duty. And what does he get? A fucking threesome with_** his**_ hot ass girlfriend and _**her **_hot ass Asian girlfriend. How is _**this**_ fair?"

Opie laughed, shaking his head as he straddled his bike.

"No clue Brother . . . but I know Tig is now my unofficial hero . . ."

Jax nodded before turning to Tara eyes hopeful.

"Honey could we-"

"_Absolutely __**not**_**.**"


	23. Chapter 23

Tig watched Ripley hug London goodbye as Bobby, Happy and Opie pulled up beside his own bike, Half Sack already rounding the curve up the driveway. He'd called and asked them to come and chill-drink and eat while they discussed what to do about the animosity between the Jax and Clay . . . anything to keep them out of them out of the line of fire before the pot latch tonight. But the real reason had been he'd wanted them to see Ripley with London. Happy had already called, calling him a liar as he laughed and groused over the phone.

He smirked, nodding to Ripley as she rolled her eyes at the others. Goddamn he had a wonderful girlfriend . . . and she came with a hot ass girlfriend. He chuckled, watching Kip walk right up to them despite the others' skeptical looks. Half Sack loved Ripley . . . and was always respectful. So him coming to introduce himself wasn't abnormal. But the way Opie kept looking between the two women knowingly was. He raised a brow. Was it possible Ope knew about Ripley's tendencies and just hadn't told the rest of them? That would earn him a great deal of points . . . and an ass beating if it was true. Because damnation he could've had this for almost a year now . . .

"Hey Ripley. Who's your friend? I'm Kip."

London smirked, staying under Ripley's outstretched arm as she extended a hand to the Prospect. Tig tried not to laugh as Happy dismounted and stepped closer with Bobby, both eying the girl with interest. Lord if they only knew . . . Opie came to stand just behind them, giving the girl a small smile and a tiny nod before moving around to go stand on the porch with Tig.

"I'm London Aikido . . . Very nice to meet you Kip."

She turned to Ripley, eyes glinting as her smirk spread into a wicked little grin. London wasn't conceited but she knew what she could do if she put her mind to it . . . and dressed in one of Ripley's sweater dresses-a black fitted little number with a clunky red leather belt around her waist- with the same red shoes she'd modeled for him this morning . . . she was bound to get the reaction she wanted. She leaned into Ripley, stage whispering as she her arm went around the other girl's waist.

"You were right, honey. He is too sweet."

Kip blushed scarlet as Opie chuckled beside him, lighting a cigarette before passing him the pack. Tig took it with a nod, lighting up with an evil smirk as he watched what was about to unfold. Oh his girl was fucking devious . . . and if this wasn't so much damn fun he'd pick her up and spread her across their bed for the rest of the day. . . . She knew better than to wear that damn dress anyway.

Ripley had, in light of the little prank he wanted to pull, gone deeper into her closet and pulled out a short dusky rose jersey mini dress. The dress fit like a second skin, making her tan seem much darker and her hair and eyes much lighter. The simple scoop neckline showed off the curve of her shoulders and neck while the back plunged to just above the swell of her ass, making it much more apparent than it normally was. His ring on her finger and a long dainty golden necklace were all the jewelry she wore, her bed tousled curls wild and falling around her in massive ringlets as she moved. She slid on her toffee riding boots again, making her legs seem even longer.

And there, with London tucked in beside her, it was easy to see that while either was stunning, the two together was an award winning combination.

Opie caught the pack as Tig tossed it back, still chuckling as Ripley nodded and pulled London closer.

"They're gonna shit . . . you know that right?"

Tig shrugged, leaning against the column as he took a long drag. He knew what would happen but it would be great.

"Oh _believe_ me**_. I know_**. But how do you?"

* * *

Opie shrugged, flicking ash as he propped himself against the other column and watched the show. He'd known for years that Ripley liked guys and girls . . . longer than Jax had. Hell, he'd been to Long Beach to see her before he went away and had met a girl much like the one in front of him. All smiles and legs . . . and absolutely stunning. He'd never cared much either way. Ripley was a good friend. She'd come to see him while he was Up-State . . . and had checked in with Donna and the kids from time-to-time, letting them come visit her in Long Beach when they needed to escape Charming.

Jax had liked the novelty of the idea . . . but had accepted it pretty easily . . . but both had known better than to tell Tara. She would've freaked. Just like she did at the Clubhouse when they got back. She didn't understand that Ripley had a type-just like most men-and that Tara Knowles had never been it. Jax had asked once, if she liked Tara that way and Ripley had scrunched her nose and made a gagging sound. Swearing it would be like fucking her sister.

Opie shook his head, knowing it still held the same for Rip . . . though now it was probably due to the immense dislike she held for Jax's Old Lady. She hadn't forgotten Tara's abandonment . . . just like Donna hadn't. He sighed, glancing at Tig. He knew he shouldn't be able to be here-with the man responsible for his wife's death-but he had let the Club absorb the fault. Tig did what he was ordered . . . and so long as he started kept taking care of Ripley he would try to work through the other shit. Besides . . . the man had almost gone crazier with guilt over it. That had to count for something, right?

He leaned in, deciding to humor the Sgt at Arms right as London turned to Happy and smiled patiently at his comment. Bobby looked about ready to die while Kip looked torn between disappointed and elated.

"So . . . you really her little thing on the side or is Tigger off his rocker again?"

London shrugged, winking at Kip as Tig and Opie watched him blush again. But her words had Happy chuckling darkly while Bobby shook his head.

"How do you know _**he's**_ not her little thing on the side, hm?"

Happy's grin darkened as he thought he'd caught them in the act. He leaned in and, looking between the two of them, smugly shook his head.

"Sorry sweetheart but I'm not buying it."

London shrugged again, rolling her eyes before turning and dismissing him almost completely.

"That's too bad, big boy. Because I'm not selling it. Just a fact. Now, Chaosia . . . are you going to tell me goodbye so I can go or am I going to have to beg?"

* * *

Ripley grinned and Opie looked skyward as Tig groaned and shook his head. She knew that at least Tig and London were enjoying this . . . but she didn't think this was going to be as shocking as they did. Some minor confusion yes . . . but not the complete W-T-Fuck they were expecting. Seriously, the boys played with Croweaters day-in-and-day-out . . . . so some girl-on-girl lip action shouldn't be a big ordeal. If anything London's looks would be the biggest upset . . . especially with the way Happy was eyeing her. She smirked. The Nomad had no clue that he would totally stand a chance of being one of the few men to ever grace Lon's sheets . . . but she wasn't going to ruin her lover's fun just yet.

She turned to London, shrugging before dipping her lips to hers. She didn't have to wait for London's lips to part and her tongue to meet hers . . . or for her arms to loop around her shoulders and her fingers to bury themselves in her hair. Ripley smirked against London's lips, her hands running down to firmly grasp her hips and pull them into her own. She almost groaned at the throaty little moan she got for that before pulling away slowly. But London wasn't having any part of it. She reached out, latching onto Ripley's bottom lip lightly and sucking the appendage into her mouth before releasing it with a loud pop.

Tig's groan and curse from the porch told her he recognized that particular move . . . and knew now who had taught it to her. She smirked down at London, pressing her forehead against her bangs. London's eyes closed and she smiled, Ripley knowing how much she liked being held like this . . .

"Promise me you'll be careful in Lodi while you're here . . . Okay? I don't want anything to happen to you . . ."

London nodded, kissing the corner of her lips before burrowing under her chin.

"Swear on my shoe closet I'll be extra careful. You coming to eat with me tomorrow before I head back to LA?"

Ripley nodded, dipping to kiss her cheek. She'd already told Tig she would be . . . and he swore that he would try to make it with her . . . so long as nothing happened with the Club or Zobelle.

"Yeah, Baby I'm coming to see you off. Tig said he might ride up with me . . ."

London smirked, looking back to the porch and stretching to whisper-where the others wouldn't hear.

"He loves you . . . and I am happy for you. Just . . . be happy for yourself, okay? Let him love you and let yourself love him."

Ripley smiled, cupping her cheek as she nodded and kissed her again-slow and sweet.

"I do love him, Lon . . . with almost all of my heart. Take care of yourself . . ."

"I will . . . but why almost all, Baby? _**Still**_ hung up on the Dead Boy?"

She shook her head, stepping back after she leaned in and whispered, running her cheek along hers.

"Nope. You've got the rest . . . . You never_** would**_ give it back."

London laughed, stepping away to go towards her shining black 2010 Camaro, opening the door as she shook her head. She went to step in before stopping and crooking her finger to Tig. Ripley smirked as she watched her boyfriend walk very deliberately to her lover as the others filed up towards the house . . . dipping to listen as she spoke to him. He nodded, pressing a kiss against her cheek before holding the door for her and closing it after she was in. When she rolled down the window, he knelt.

"You take care of her . . . even when she swears she can take care of herself."

He nodded, looking back at Ripley.

"I think I can manage that . . . We'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded, blowing kisses before stomping on the gas and pealing out, spraying both of them with gravel. Ripley laughed while Tig groused, walking back to her and draping his arm over her shoulders. As they went to go back into the house, Ripley turned and looked back to where her girl had disappeared.

Tig nudged her, eyes worried as he pulled her closer.

"You okay?"

She nodded . . . but she wasn't. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just missed a very important opportunity. She smiled up at him before leaning into him as they stopped in front of the closed door. The sounds of their brothers floating out and into the chilly afternoon air. She looked up, suddenly curious.

"What did she say to you anyway?"

He grinned, kissing her forehead before turning her to face him as he held her, allowing her to cuddle into him as he chuckled. Something Tig Trager did not do often.

"She told me she loved you . . . and she was trusting me with you. So I'd better not fuck it up . . . You love her don't you?"

Ripley closed her eyes, leaning into him.

"Stupid girl . . . she was the first person to actually get me, you know? To not think I was cold or callous . . . or insane for liking both men and women. She never asked me to change or to talk about the past. She just . . . let me be. Even when I had to be away from her. I owe her a lot, Alex . . . and she means a lot to me. But you hold the biggest part of me."

He nodded, hugging her tighter against him.

"Good thing I don't mind sharing with her. But only her, Ripley."

She nodded, leaning up to kiss him.

"Well, we could always look at it like this. I share you on runs . . . and you share me with Aikido. And you get to join in the fun when you're home . . ."

He grinned, laughing as he went to the door.

"Two for one . . . I'm gonna be the King of SAMCRO. Hell, even Clay will bow to me . . ."

She shook her head and followed him inside, grumbling about illusions of grandeur and stupid boys as she got asked a million questions. Before smacking Happy for asking if he could watch next time . . . Idiots.


	24. Chapter 24

_Okay another multi-part update for my loyal readers. Yay! Um . . . this is going to seem to move in odd directions for a bit but it all will eventually come together in the end. So consider yourselves warned. Also the standard warning about the sexual content and the nature of Ripley and Tig's relationship still stands. Also, you get to see a bit of Ripley's instability here . . . part of what makes her such an oddball to write. Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

Ripley was curled over the toilet in her office, trying to stop the dry heaves that were racking her body. Gemma had called earlier, just to check on her, but it hadn't helped . . . if anything it just made it worse. Tig had tried to get her to ignore the call into work today . . . but she hadn't listened and had answered the phone. And now she wished she hadn't. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to see LuAnne Delaney's mangled face and body on that slab . . . and to not know for fact what it was about. Tig had filled her in on the Crew's little mission against Georgie . . . and how they'd had to retaliate when he'd sent someone to fuck with Lyla. This was his retaliation . . . and it was brutal.

She glanced at her watch, trying to compose herself enough to get up and go change clothes. She had to go in that house and act like she wasn't aware of who this was. She couldn't without Hale making the calls first. He'd pretty much threatened her job if she did and she was far too shocked to go against him right now. She laid her head on the seat, her heart clenching at the thought of Otto. Otto loved LuAnne . . . he'd saved her from the fate of a pornstar and had landed her in the producer's seat. Since that act of love and Otto's incarceration, LuAnne had gone out of her way to help SAMCRO and them her. And now here she was. Cold and dead. And beaten to a bloody pulp.

She felt her stomach twist again and hated that this was upsetting her so badly. That every time she closed her eyes she either saw what was left of her friend or what had been there. Like LuAnne and Gemma helping her mother-who was so flustered with the subject- give her the Birds and the Bees talk. And then being so goofy she laughed off the gross stuff. Or her picking up on her bisexuality earlier than anyone else and sitting her down and explaining that _**nothing **_was wrong with it. That she was one of those people who would just naturally like sex . . . and could appreciate the beauty in both men _**and**_ women.

Or her, not even four weeks ago, trying to come help with the Twins' room . . . and enlisting help that she thought would be happy for the chance. How in the world was she going to do this?

Her cell phone buzzed and she looked down, shocked to see Tig's regular number. She wiped her eyes and tried to clear up her voice.

"Hello?"

But he caught it anyway. And launched into fret-mode . . . . Something he didn't do at all. Actually she hadn't really heard this yet. Something else must be going on . . . she had better try and sound like she was okay. He would need a clear head . . .

"_What's wrong, Baby? You okay?"_

She nodded then groaned at herself. He couldn't see her through the phone . . . grief was turning her into a regular dingbat.

"Yeah I'm fine. Just . . . a really bad call."

"_You wanna . . . talk about it? I mean the guys are gone, already heading to Gemma's while I finish up these errands for Clay . . ."_

"No Babe. I can't talk about it until notifications are made . . . Hale would find a way to get me fired for it . . . just know that I really want to tell you and I can't. Okay?"

She heard him sigh and tell Clay something before coming back to the phone. She raised a brow. Where was he?

"_I get it Baby. Just tell me when you can. I gotta go. See you at dinner?"_

She smiled then had to fight the tears all over again. LuAnne wouldn't be there . . . ever again.

"Yeah. Love you Tigger . . ."

"_You too Baby. See you soon."_

She closed the phone before leaning back into the toilet seat and sobbing her eyes out. It was days like today she really hated her job.

* * *

When Ripley walked into Gemma's house, the Matriarch was already dressed and waiting, practically tossing food on the table while various people tried to help her. But she wasn't having any of it. She was too busy arguing with Tara. Who seemed to have crawled right back up on her high horse again.

Ripley rolled her eyes, shedding her black blazer and draping it over a chair. She'd changed at work . . . trading her work suit and dress shirt for a pair of faded designer jeans and black tee shirt, her navy and black vest from before over the shirt while her black heels poked from beneath the jeans. She'd pulled her hair down, letting it fall in wild curls and had scrubbed her makeup off. Knowing that she would eventually have to tell them sometime-job be damned-and she didn't want raccoon eyes again.

She sighed, going to separate the Queen and the Heir Apparent. The closer she got however, the more she really just wished she'd stayed at home . . . She didn't need this shit right now. And honestly neither did Gemma with the burden she was carrying.

"Excuse me for trying to help but the little bitch acts like she's better than us. After the way she talked to_** Ripley**_ I wasn't going to let her threaten _**you **_too!"

"This is my _**life, **_Gemma! _**My career!**_ Just stay out of it!"

Ripley looked between them, Gemma turning and immediately picking up on the fact that something was wrong with her. She came around the table, reaching up and cupping her cheek as she looked at her with worried eyes. While Tara fumed at being ignored mid-rant. Ripley closed her eyes, counting to twenty in Japanese in her head to keep from lashing out at the other Doctor. This was so not the day to pull this bullshit . . . she just had to be calm until Hale came by. Then she could relay what she knew and let herself lean a bit on Tig. A thought that should terrify her but only made her want the straight-laced do-gooder to get there faster. Where were the cops when you fucking needed them?

"You okay Baby Girl?"

Ripley nodded, going to speak as Tara huffed and rolled her eyes. Then opened her fucking mouth.

"I bet she's just upset that her little girlfriend is gone."

Ripley stopped and reminded herself again to try and keep calm. She was too emotional after everything with LuAnne. And she was _**not**_ going to destroy this dinner. Gemma needed it and the Crew needed to feel unified in light of all that was going down. She sighed, breathing out deeply and slowly before turning to Tara.

"London left hours ago . . . and I'm upset because of something at work. But I've already been told by Hale that I'm bound to silence until he's made the notification or he'll go after my job. Now, can the two of you please quit yelling and tell me what's going on?"

Gemma sighed, hands going up as she went to explain while Tara huffed again. And Ripley decided she hated that noise. And that if she did it again then she was going to rip her damn larynx out through her nose . . . and make sure she took most of her sinuses with it. That way she couldn't make any noise at all. Oh that was a very tempting thought . . .

"Why? What does it matter to you anyway? The rest of us were worried sick about getting them out of jail and what did you do? Went off to Lodi with _**whoever**_ that was at your house before coming back and shacking up with her. I thought Jax was right-that you and Tig were too different to actually _**work**_-but I_** so**_ see now that we were _**both**_ wrong. How fucked up in the head is somebody to go off and fuck another _**woman**_ while her_** boy**__friend_ is in jail?"

Gemma closed her eyes, shaking her head before turning back to Ripley right as Lyla and the kids walked in . . . Lyla dressed nicer than most of the others and smiling as she saw them, carrying a home baked desert as Ellie and Kenny waved while her own son hid bashfully behind her. Ripley forced herself to smile, ignoring the words from Tara to wave back at the kids and Lyla. Only to turn around and want to bash the other woman's head in when she opened her mouth again. She glanced over the table, trying to find something to start prying the stupid bitch's larynx out with . . . and the salad tongs were really starting to look promising . . .

"Oh _**great.**_ Are we serving hand jobs with desert now too?"

Lyla looked like she'd been hit as the kids just stopped and looked up between the adults. She was suddenly thankful they were probably too young to know what a hand job was . . . and that Gemma's face reflected the same shock at Tara's behavior. Lyla however, had apparently had enough. She slammed the plate of desert down onto the table hard enough that Ripley knew it was probably broken and stormed out, the kids following in her wake. With Ellie-ever curious- looking up to the now fuming and crying blonde asking the question that finally sent her over the edge into a full blown hysterical fit.

"Uh . . . Miss Lyla? What's a hand job? Is that anything like the Jazzy Hands my chorus teacher is showing us? Because I can do that!"

Ripley turned, glaring at Tara as she rounded on the snooty doctor. She was so finished putting up with this shit . . .

* * *

Tig pulled in beside Opie and Bobby, Clay already off and going towards the house while Jax waited for them at the walkway. He sighed, shaking his head as he took off his helmet . . . just in time to see Lyla pour out of the house and start towards her car, her own son clutched to her as Ope's little ones followed pretty close. Her boy was crying and she looked about ready to rejoin him. Opie moved, Jax and Bobby following as Tig made his way to them slowly.

He had no clue what was going on but he knew that probably wanted _**no**_ part of it. This was already going to be hell on all of them . . . the tension between Jax and Clay since they'd gotten out was palpable, practically covering every decision and everything they touched. Bobby had already decided that they were going to call a meet-sans the VP and Prez- and try and figure this out. Bobby was still for the idea of locking them in a room together until they duked it out . . . and Tig himself was ready to put a bullet in Jax's head. He'd actually had the nerve to ask to see Clay and himself alone in Church earlier . . . . And if he didn't love Ripley and Gemma that boy would be dead.

He still couldn't believe he'd brought up everything about Donna again . . . because he'd seen Stahl was back in town when they'd gone to start tracking down the leads to all of this Zobelle shit. He'd been told to drop it, that Ope was as at peace as he was going to get . . . and he still couldn't let it go . . . Tig groaned, turning back when Lyla started going off.

"I'm going home, Opie. That doctor is a self-righteous _**bitch**_!"

Tig raised a brow as Bobby tried not to laugh as Opie turned and glared at Jax before shaking his head and pulling Lyla tighter into him. She leaned in willingly, clutching him as tears started pouring over her cheeks and Opie shook his head.

"Thanks _**Brother**_."

Tig watched Jax and Bobby go towards the house, Jax grumbling as they went.

"Jesus Christ . . . just another dinner with the Family."

Tig sighed, shaking his head before turning back to the couple before him. He knew Lyla was good for Opie . . . and good for Ripley if he was brutally honest. They both needed someone outside of all of this to just accept it . . . even if Ripley refused to admit it. He reached out patting Opie's shoulder as he went to leave them in peace. He nodded to Lyla then towards the house.

"Come back in when you're ready. Trust me, between Rip and Gem she won't get to open her mouth twice. I'm surprised she tried it after Rip almost beat her at the hospital a few weeks ago."

Opie nodded as Lyla gave him a watery smile . . . and he left before he did too much damage to his reputation. He knew his girl would appreciate what he just did but everyone else would just think he'd gone soft . . . and he was so not putting up with the bullshit.

* * *

When he stepped into the house, Tig was almost tempted to walk back out and check the number. He was sure he'd come to Gemma's-it looked like Gemma's place and all of the right cars were parked out front-**_ including_** his girlfriend's-but he was sure he wasn't in the place. Because if he was, then his pretty little girlfriend and Tara Knowles were brawling with Jax and Bobby trying to step between them. He watched, amazed as Clay just stood there beside Gemma for a second before snapping out of it. Dear God, if Rip had been a boy she would've made an awesome Son . . . Clay's voice carried over the house . . .

"Jesus Christ! This is a dining room not a boxing ring. Get 'em under control or take it outside!"

Pulling Tara's concentration just enough for Ripley to land a beautiful punch right as Lyla and Opie walked back in. Tig watched the mean-spirited smirk cross Lyla's face before it melted away into concern as Ripley shook her now bleeding hand while Jax held pressure to Tara's pouring nose.

He shook his head, stepping forward to grab Ripley around the waist and pick her up off the ground just as Tara spit blood at her. He was so tempted to set her back on her feet and let her go . . . but the look on Gemma's face kept him from doing it. She looked about ready to cry . . . As Ripley shrugged forward at Tara's next taunt, he tightened his grip, using his other arm to wrap over her chest and hold her shoulder, anchoring her against him as he spoke to her. He had to calm her down before she did something they'd both regret.

"Settle down, Baby Girl. It's not worth the trouble, okay? Look at Gemma. You can't do this to her. Let the Doc be the one to fuck it up more . . ."

He kissed her neck and she started to relax bit-by-bit. He looked up to see her eyes travel to Gemma and felt her shoulders sag. He nodded against her, pulling her tighter as he felt her knees go weak. He had her and she wasn't going to fall. He wouldn't let her . . .

* * *

Tara and Jax went off into the kitchen, Jax quietly scolding her the whole way as Gemma looked down at her still pristine table. She sighed, looking back up at Clay who was fuming and glaring at Ripley as she sagged in Tig's hold. She shook her head, reaching out to touch him but he shrugged her off, turning to dig into her.

"Why didn't you stop them? Jesus you so hard up for the entertainment you were going to let them keep at it? Gem, Ripley would've killed her . . . you saw the way she went after her."

Gemma glared, straightening herself to her full height as she turned to move the desert Lyla had brought. She sighed, looking at the homemade pudding and felt her heart pang. The girl had done what so few of the others had and gone out of her way to help out. Both with Opie and the potluck. She set the cracked plate back down, shaking her hands as she turned to glare back at Clay.

"You think I don't know that? But how was I supposed to stop them? Tara just wasn't going to be satisfied until she started something . . . and Ripley tried to keep the peace. But even _**her**_ patience has limits, Clay. She isn't _**Millennia**_."

"Well she fucking_** needs**_ to be. Last thing I need is another Prodigal Loose Cannon on my hands. The _Little Prince_ is enough."

Clay growled, turning to yell at Ripley but stopped when they saw her. She looked like Tig was the only thing keeping her up right . . . and by the way he was looking at her he was. Her head was hung but they could both see the tears . . . and it was enough to send Gemma into a fury. She turned, glaring at Clay.

"Go wash up and get ready to eat. We will finish this later-"

"No. we're finishing this _**now**_."

Gemma turned, watching Jax stroll in and glare down at Clay before turning to glower at her. She however wasn't moved. She was not going to deal with this. Not with everything she was doing, was going through practically alone, to ensure that none of them got hurt. But Jax started, laying into Clay as the boys came to stand behind both of them.

Gemma looked down at the table, glaring at the still perfect place settings, the only thing marring it was the broken desert. Why couldn't everything else be as perfect as she'd managed to make this?

A knock on the door, brought her attention to the kitchen . . . and David Hale walked into her home. Casting a weary glance over everyone assembled before landing on Ripley. She looked away and Gemma knew that whatever the girl had been forced to keep silent on was connected to them. But she was a coroner . . . what could Hale possibly want her to not tell them?

"I'm here to let you all know that LuAnne Delaney was found beaten to death earlier today. But I assume they already know that . . . right Dr. Shaw?"

Ripley glared, turning into Tig as she practically spat at him.

"No, _**David.**_ I wanted to let you do the ID first . . . I was praying you would be wrong."

He blinked-obviously shocked- before nodding and, after looking over the rest of them, turned to leave.

"I'm sorry for your loss. _**And **_the misunderstanding . . . Good night."

Clay turned, fuming at Ripley before he looked to Jax.

"Was this _**you**_? Did you cause this?"

Jax barked out a laugh, looking at him incredulously before turning and glancing at Tig.

"Are you really going to lay the death of an Old Lady at my feet_**? Seriously**_?"

Gemma watched Tig tighten his grip on Ripley and felt her heart break. Tig's face was stone cold but she could easily see the way he clung to her, like she was his salvation for the wrongs he'd done in the Club's name. He refused to look towards Opie, keeping his eyes on the dueling leaders before his hand slipped to splay across Ripley's stomach and pull her back tighter against him. As Jax and Clay exchanged threats, she felt her resolve snap. All because no matter what happened with the others all she could see was Ripley silently weeping and Tig holding her. Steadying each other in the shitstorm around them as they faced it together. The way this Club was supposed to be . . . had been before all of this shit started happening.

She reached out, grabbing the platter in front of her as the boys separated and slammed it down, shattering it as she sank into the seat and laid her head in her hands. Her friend was dead, her family was falling apart and the only thing she could see ahead of them was the light of the oncoming train. She felt arms go around her and just leaned into them, letting whoever hold her as she started to weep. When she looked up, it didn't surprise her that Ripley was the one who had her . . . and that Tig was hovering close to them while he kept Clay in his sights. She leaned into her daughter, letting her heart pour out as she cried. And as the family she'd been trying so hard to protect started to slink away-trying to get away from the warzone-she knew that she needed to do something to fix this . . . she just didn't know what.


	25. Chapter 25

Tig sat with Ripley, holding her hand as they waited in the restaurant for London. She shifted, looking at her watch again before sighing. They'd already been here twenty minutes and the girl wasn't answering her cell phone . . . she turned to Tig and he hated the look in her eyes. She was still upset over LuAnne . . . and this wasn't helping. She'd been sick since they'd gotten home last night, puking and crying as he held her and tried to get her to calm down. But no matter how much he tried-or how hard she would try to control herself-she just couldn't. She'd told him about LuAnne helping her when she was younger . . . and always trying to be there in some way even after Otto went away. And while she wasn't as close to the producer as she was Gemma, she'd still loved her like she did the other members of SAMCRO. And this was killing her.

She'd called this morning, as they went to get ready to leave, to start the arrangements for the wake and funeral. Otto wasn't able to and Gemma was as close to shambles as he'd ever seen her . . . so Ripley had taken it upon herself to take care of it. Lyla had called, offering to help with as much as she could while Jax had gone to tell Otto in person.

Tig sighed, rubbing her hand as she looked out the window trying to see if London was coming towards the glass fronted café. He knew that she'd needed this-the companionship and understanding of someone who cared as much about her as he did- but he was beginning to get very angry with the voluptuous model. Angrier with every passing second actually. Ripley did not need to be disappointed again. Not with all of this . . .

He turned as her work cell went off, causing both of them to look at her purse hanging on the chair. He couldn't help the bad feeling settling in his gut . . . but he didn't tell her to ignore the damn thing. She sighed, pulling it out and opening it, listening very carefully before answering.

"Okay . . . I'm out right now so just let me run my errands and I'll be there . . . you know what to do Jordan. Just make sure it all gets bagged and tagged and sent back to the labs . . . yeah, I know. See you in a bit."

She hung up, turning to him with a weak smile.

"Duty calls. They found another girl . . . I need to drop you at T&M before I go in. . . ."

He shook his head, motioning for the waiter as they both stood. He tossed the cash for their drinks and a hefty tip before sliding his leather jacket back on. He'd forgone the Cut . . . opting for the black dress shirt and the nicer pair of jeans with his boots and jacket. He knew he looked good, if the way Ripley's eyes kept cutting to him were any indication. But he still felt odd without the Cut. Thank God he'd stashed it in her Chevelle before they'd left.

"Nah, Babe. I'm with you. All day unless Clay calls. After that shit yesterday I don't want you alone . . . okay?"

She nodded, stepping into him as he raised his arm and slung it over her shoulders. He dipped, kissing the top of her head and smirked as she sighed into his chest as he led them out of the restaurant. He would go by T&M after they checked in with her work . . . but for now, he had to keep an eye on her. She was far too fragile to normally be so strong. He could practically see the little breaks and fissures in her armor from the weight of all this shit . . . and something else he couldn't place. The same weight that Gemma seemed to be carrying . . . But where Gem was holding it together-however barely-Ripley seemed about ready to crumble under the pressure last night and this morning. And he would try his damnedest to keep her from breaking if he could.

* * *

Ripley walked into her cold room, shedding her cardigan and tossing it over her chair before shrugging into the long white lab coat. She was pulling her hair back as Jordan pushed through the other doors, making sure to leave clearance for the covered cadaver as he steered it towards the last slab. She sighed, glancing back to Tig as he settled into one of the other office chairs, spinning ever-so-often as he looked to the ceiling. She rolled her eyes, knowing that he was bored to death already . . . and utterly and completely thankful he was here with her.

She really didn't want to do this alone. Not after yesterday. She moved, going to help Jordan move the body as Hale and Unser walked through the doors, the former stopping to glare at Tig as he stretched back and preened. Unser however just nodded and looked to her, obviously upset over something. He reached out, catching her hand as she went to move to get a report board.

"How you holding up, Doc?"

She blinked before answering slowly.

"As good as can be. I'm going to see Otto after this . . . make sure he's doing okay. First the attack and now this . . ."

He nodded, offering her a warm smile as Tig and Hale watched on in interest. She'd always liked Unser . . . . He'd gone out of his way to check on her when her parents were gone and even after she'd first moved back. He was a sweet guy . . . and loyal. His next words just proving it.

"Well, you need anything you let me know sweetheart. Okay?"

She nodded, smiling at him as he patted her hand. She leaned over, kissing his cheek before stepping back to go to work. She opened the bag, looking to him as he moved out of the way.

"Thanks Wayne. It means a lot to me . . ."

And the rest of her words died in her throat as she saw who was in the bag. Even with the freshly dyed blonde hair, battered and dirt covered face and her lips sliced into a gruesome mockery of a smile . . . Ripley would know those eyes anywhere. She felt her world tip as she staggered back; barely registering that Unser had caught her and was helping ease her to the floor. She heard Tig as he came to her side, felt him cupping her face and forcing her to look at him as he looked her over. But she couldn't respond. Her mouth wouldn't form the words as her eyes started to leak, mascara stained tears leaving black rivers down her cheeks as she cut her eyes back to the bag on the table.

She couldn't do anything but sob as the world started to bear down on her even harder. Because there, in that bag broken and dismembered like so many others before her, was London.

* * *

Gemma paced, watching Ripley sleep fitfully on the Clubhouse apartment bed as Tig and Clay talked over what needed to be done. This killer had struck too close to the Club to be ignored anymore . . . but with what was going on with Cara Cara . . . and Zobelle and the Mayans they were already stretched thin. She sighed, turning to leave Ripley to rest. She had invoices to file anyway . . .

She moved out of the Club and towards the garage before the reality hit her and she almost sank to her knees. Ripley had lost not one but two people close to her in as many days and she'd still come to the Club. She'd still come to the house last night, trying to put on a smiling face for her and the others with LuAnne's death weighing on her . . . She made her way into the office, forcing herself to sit and go through the motions of work. As she sat there, trying to block out all that had happened, she lost track of the time . . . until Tara walked in. She looked up, brow raised before she narrowed her eyes as Tara sunk into the seat across from her. The solid hit she'd taken to the nose from her and then Ripley had left her with a bruised face . . . but now it seemed so petty for them to fight.

"Just to warn you, Ripley's friend London was killed last night. So I would be very careful of what I said when she wakes up . . ."

Tara paled before looking back towards the door.

"Jesus. First Cara Cara burns then this . . . I guess it isn't a bad thing that Jax wants to go Nomad. Hell, maybe it'll help."

Gemma stopped, struck by what she'd just heard as she processed it. Jax wanted to go Nomad?

"Nomad? _**Nomad ? **_Is he _**insane?**_ That's a horrible idea . . ."

Tara looked up, eyes skeptical.

"You don't think it'll help? With everything between Jax and Clay . . . and the Club . . ."

Gemma shook her head, moving to get her coat. This was not what they needed. She had to do something or her family was going to fall apart.

"No, honey it isn't the answer. Being spread out over four States with no protection, always gone and riding alone . . . It's the last thing Jax-or this family-needs."

Tara sank into the seat, the weight hitting her full force.

"Well what do we do? How do we stop it?"

Gemma shook her head, looking up to see Jax storm out of the Clubhouse, Chibs and Tig following him closely. Chibs's head was still wrapped and he'd yet to put a shirt on under his cut from where they'd gone to get him before . . . but he was steadfast in keeping on Jax's heels as he went to start his bike. Both men had their own shit to do . . . but something made her notice them. They had repo-ed a SUV earlier in the day from the Reservation and in the back- the bead boxes the squaw had tried to get them to unload turned out to be filled with bullets instead of beads. Of the home made and unstamped-meaning untraceable-variety. So now, while Jax went to do whatever, Tig and Clay were going out to the Indians to see what kind of deal they could set up . . . and from the looks of it, Sack was going with them. Gemma shook her head, standing o go and check on Ripley. She needed to talk to the girl-despite how she felt-and she needed to do it quick.

* * *

Ripley sat on the back of her Chevelle watching the others pour in to go vote on Jax's transfer. One by one, the King's horses and all the King's men lined up in a neat little row to go send her friend off into the MC Wasteland . . . all except Tig and the Prospect. She turned, seeing Gemma settle in beside her shaking her head.

"You're not going to like this but . . . Clay has Tig's vote by proxy. He and the Prospect are out on the Reservation . . . having a wonderful little shroom trip courtesy of the local tribe."

Ripley shrugged, turning to watch the others go inside. She felt the anger at being forgotten try and bubble up but it just couldn't. She was too _**numb**_ to let it. If she did then she would have to face and feel everything else trying to work its way up. And she just couldn't do that. Not right now. She turned to Gemma, pulling Tig's coat tighter around her as she accepted the blunt the older woman lit.

"You sure about doing this? I mean . . . you know it'll start a war, Gemma. One that we can't control or stop once it's done . . . They'll spill blood in the Club's name-your name-and it's going to stain the streets of Charming red . . ."

Gemma nodded, taking the joint back. Ripley saw, even with the doubt and uncertainty surrounding her that Gemma was not afraid of letting the truth out anymore. She'd resolved this was the way to heal her family and she was going to do it.

"Gotta be done . . . or we'll all cave. And I'm not letting that happen. Not now."

Ripley nodded, laying her head on Gemma's shoulder as Tara's Cutlass pulled in. She nodded to the other girl, refusing to say much as she moved to sit with them. She knew that Tara had been buckling under the pressure but she wasn't quite ready to forgive her just yet. Not with the thought running through her head that she'd been saying those things as London had taken her last terror filled breath. She shook her head, sitting up. Tara and Gemma talked quietly until Lyla pulled in, going to sit on the picnic table across the lot after she hesitated for a second.

Tara smirked, nodding.

"Yeah you better stay over there, Porn Girl."

Ripley turned as Gemma shook her head, nudging Tara.

"You need to stop that. That girl doesn't want a thing to do with Jax . . ."

Ripley nodded, sliding off the trunk to stretch.

"She's right you know. Lyla only has eyes for Ope . . . and she's _**serious**_ about him. Not the Club or the Cut. _**Him.**_ Besides . . . she's not so bad. She's sweet."

Gemma nodded, holding out the joint to Tara.

"Yeah . . . besides, Porn Girl looks like she could use a toke herself. Last few days have been rough . . . . Just, go make peace."

Tara looked at the joint skeptically before taking it and waiting to follow Ripley as she made her way to Lyla. When they sat, the conversation started slowly . . . and as they started to laugh, Ripley looked up to Gemma watching them from the trunk of her car. Smiling. She smiled back, nodding before turning back to see the others start to leave. Jax walked to Tara and Opie to Lyla . . . leaving her very aware that the man that should've been smiling and happy to see her waiting for him was absent. And in the middle of a damn field floating off in the clouds.

Clay's call to them brought her back just in time to see Gemma come up to Jax and Tara.

"Be good to 'em girls. It's been a helluva week."

Gemma caught Jax, looking to her and Tara before speaking.

"You need to come by the house tonight . . ."

Jax pulled back, rolling his eyes as he started to whine.

"C'mon Mom. It's done. I'm-"

She cut him off, looking to Clay as he approached.

"I need to tell you something. _**Both**_ of you."

She looked to Ripley and she suddenly felt her heart clench.

"You two come too . . . You already know what it's about anyway."

Ripley nodded, waving to Opie and Lyla as they went to leave. And she suddenly wished that Tig were here. Because at least she'd have someone to break down to when this finally came out.

* * *

Clay kept looking at Ripley while Gemma recounted the beating and rape . . . and despite knowing he should be angry at her he just couldn't be. She'd protected his wife, done as she asked even when she didn't believe in it herself. And she'd kept the secret no matter how many times she'd wanted to confess. Just like he'd known she would. He watched Jax stand, go to Gemma's hands and kiss them before looking to him and nodding. As he and Tara went to leave, the Doc dipped to hug Gemma . . . and Clay suddenly knew where their newfound camaraderie came from . . . and why even after she pissed Ripley off something fierce the girl hadn't acted like he _**knew**_ she should have. And would have if not for his wife's sake.

He nodded to the Doc, watching them leave before motioning for Ripley to follow him outside. She did so with a nod and quick glance to Gemma. And once they were out in the night air he watched her shoulders sag and the weight practically lift from them. She'd been through enough on her own and then to keep this . . .

She looked up at him, eyes still cold as she started.

"She needs you to do this **right.** She kept this to keep blood out of the streets and to keep you _**all**_ safe. Zobelle isn't like the others . . . and she's fucked him over enough by keeping this quiet. He's expected retaliation . . . goaded you into action to get it. And now you _**can't**_ play into that. Not again. Swear to me on the blood of _**SAMCRO**_ that you'll do this_** right**_ . . ."

He nodded, clapping her shoulder.

"I swear kiddo. I swear. Go on home, okay? Let_** us**_ bare this for a while. Just wait for Tig to come back, okay?"

She nodded, turning to leave before she stopped.

"I'm only saying this once, Clay . . . but I mean it. I love you both like you were family. Deal with this and bury it_**. All**_ of _**you**_. Don't let the ghosts of our mistakes bury us . . . or tear us apart. Make right with Jax and do what's best for the Club."

He nodded, hating that she was right. It was days like this, with her here and being so much of Ed that he couldn't fathom her not being his blood that he truly missed her Old Man. He'd have already been organizing everything so they could get on with it. And, he knew if Tig were here, he would do the same. He cupped her face, dipping to kiss her forehead before letting her go.

"You're your Old Man all over, aren't you kid? Any of Millie in you at all?"

She smiled, shrugging.

"Not right now . . . I'll let you know when we bury the fuckers who touched our family. I'm going to go . . . and to let you know, I'm heading out to see Otto tomorrow. Anything you want me to tell him?"

He nodded, pulling his cigar from his Cut.

"Yeah. Tell him about this-about _**all**_ of it-and tell him that Jax'll be by soon with word on when we settle his score."

She nodded turning and vanishing back into the house. She stopped when she saw Gemma at the sink, washing her hands. She reached out, touching her godmother's shoulder and turning her to face her. Gemma's face was tear streaked and she knew that despite the fallout it would cause that she needed this. To have her closure about being pushed and backed into a corner. As she pulled her into a hug, she knew that Ethan Zobelle had no clue what he'd unleashed. SAMCRO was many things . . . but they were nothing without Gemma behind them. And she hadn't broken under the weight of this . . . but she'd finally have her justice. Clay and Jax would see to it. And Tig would help paint the fucking streets with blood . . .

She held Gemma, letting her cry as Clay came back in. She nodded, telling him to go and she'd stay. He had things to do, to set in motion. And she didn't want to be alone any more than Gemma did. She sighed, pulling back and following Gemma into the green house. She had buds to plant and then they'd see about getting a drink . . . maybe they could drown their sorrows together.


	26. Chapter 26

Ripley sat across from Otto, holding his hand as he laid his head on the table. He was so thankful it was her and not one of the Sons . . . because she could let him be weak and not discount him for it. She knew how much he loved LuAnne and she wouldn't breath a word of this to anyone. So he let her hold his hand and rub his shoulder while he wept. And he wasn't the least bit ashamed to do it.

When he felt like he could speak without breaking, he looked up. And felt his heart shatter as she slowly pushed up the patch over his now permanently blind eye. She traced the scar over the other and with what limited vision he had left he could tell she was trying not to cry. He reached out, finding her face and cupping her cheeks, letting the tears fall over his calloused and bloodstained hands. Her and the boys-that seemed to have lost their way in all of the chaos surrounding them-were what SAMCRO was about. They were the family, the anchor that tethered the Outlaws and kept them sane. And pure. Every action was supposed to be for them, for the future and the good of the Club. And if he lived to get out of here he would make sure it came to pass.

"I am so sorry, Otto . . ."

He nodded, patting her cheek.

"I know Baby Girl. I know. So . . . Jax said-when I got shanked-that you were seeing Trager. How's _**that**_ going?"

He felt her face move and knew the frown that had graced her lips wasn't nearly as pretty as the smile she usually wore when she visited him. Oh Lord. What had Trager done?

"Fine, I guess. He's out with Clay now I suppose. Trying to get this right. I just . . . I wonder if I've made a mistake here. Coming back . . . I missed it so much but I've lost so much now."

He nodded, tracing her lips with his thumb.

"I know honey. But that's the way of the Outlaw. We don't always do what's best . . . but we do what's right. For us _**and**_ our family. And_** I**_ know that I am so thankful you're here. And I know, from the last time I talked to LuAnne she was too. You know she came to see me when Gemma told her you were moving back?"

She shook her head and he smiled. He could see it in his mind that quizzical face that kept Ed's thunderous temper at bay . . . and turned the most fearsome son of a bitch he'd ever known into a teddy bear. The same way her Momma had before her.

"Thought it was Christmas or something . . . She was so happy that you were coming home. And she was excited for Gemma too. They'd missed you something fierce and she knew that with Tara back she'd need someone other than a former pornstar to talk sense into her. She told me about your house and you taking up with Tig's girls . . . and how she was going to have to let Lyla have more time to be with you since she'd opened up around you. She _**loved**_ you, Little Girl. Just like we all do."

Ripley smiled, her lips brushing against his thumb before she kissed it and he felt more tears streak down his hands. He felt her move and the bench beside him sway as she sat next to him, hugging him as he held her. LuAnne had always said if they were ever graced with kids she'd want one like Ripley. Even from the first day Millie had cautiously sat her on the floor of the Club and let her wander from Son to Son, meeting everyone and nosing around. Before she'd stopped in front of him and Ed and just stared up at them, giggling when his Luanne dipped and picked her up, letting the tiny little bundle of blonde curls and giggles pull on her earrings and use her lipstick to 'make Piney pretty' . . . He held her to him, petting her hair as she cried.

"I miss her, Otto. And I feel so_** bad**_. I mean, I barely saw her since I came back. With all of the crap with Gemma and Tara and Tig . . . I just . . .I-"

"_**Shhh. Shhh**_. She_** knew**_, Honey. She knew. And she made sure every one of those girls and Gemma and anyone who would stand still _knew_ how she felt about you. Just _**breathe**_. And go to the house. I want you and Gemma to pack it up . . . and I want you to do what LuAnne's will has got laid out, okay?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes as the guard tapped on the door. He didn't need his eyes to know she was glaring at them as they opened the door. He chuckled, patting her shoulder.

"Time to go, Baby Girl. Go ahead and do what needs to be done . . . and kick Trager in the ass for me. Should've known the second I was away he'd move in on my girl."

She laughed, kissing his cheek before standing to leave. As she waited with him for the guards, she never moved her hand from where it'd landed on his shoulder. And when he went to be led out she kissed him again, soft and sweet on the corner of his lips the way she had when she was a baby. The way she had everyone but Bobby, who got bit on Ed's orders.

"I'll _**always**_ be your girl, Uncle Otto. Don't ever forget that . . . Love you."

He nodded, turning to be led away.

"I love you too, Honey. We _**both**_ do."

And with that, he let them take him back to solitary . . . but he didn't feel so isolated anymore.

* * *

Ripley pulled into Gemma's right as Tig was going to pull out. She parked, getting out as he put the kickstand down and stepped off of the bike. She looked him over and had to wonder what in the hell happened to his face. No one had called her about anything . . . She winced, reaching up to touch the butterfly stitched cut on his cheek, tracing the abused and bruised flesh lightly as he looked down at her with conflicted eyes. She was so busy looking over his wounds that she was cut off guard as his lips found hers. She gasped into the kiss, head swimming from the intensity of it as he walked her backwards to push her against the Chevelle.

His hands were everywhere as he reached out and carefully pushed up the long flowing peasant skirt she was wearing, one hand nudging her legs a bit further apart as the other reached behind them and tugged on the door. She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her, his kissing mouth swallowing her protests as he gave a hard pull on the car door and opened it. Before she knew what was happening, he had her in the very cramped backseat of her car and was pushing her to lay back as his mouth left her lips and worked down her neck. While his fingers pushed aside the lace of her panties and plunged into her, working at a fast pace to push her as close to the edge as fast as he could. She gasped, back arching off of the leather as he chuckled, his fingers leaving her just as she started to come . . . She groaned as he sat back on his knees, hand going to his belt as he watched her ride out the orgasm he'd just wrenched her into.

As he leaned back down, his mouth found the spot above her heart and bit hard enough to make her yelp before he started soothing the mark with his tongue. She shivered, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him up to look at her as the reality of the situation sank in. They were in her car. In _Gemma's fucking driveway_ with the damned door hanging open. In the middle of the _**goddamn**_ day!

"What is **wrong** with you? Are you _**high?**_ We are so going to get cau-"

His mouth covered hers as he chuckled and buried himself in her to the hilt. She groaned, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling as his mouth left hers and kissed to her ear.

"You've carried a lot, Baby Girl. Clay told us 'bout Gem . . . and you keeping her secret. I'm pissed you didn't tell me . . . but I am so fucking proud of you for doing right by her. By _**us.**_ I love you Baby and I am so fucking happy to have you . . . Let me show you that . . . Let me take care of you now . . ."

She gasped as he pulled back and pushed his hips forward, sending tiny little sparks of pleasure surging through her. She _**wanted**_ this but they had to _**think**_ . . .

"We're gonna get** caught** here, Alex. Last thing either of us needs is an indecent exposure and conduct against us . . ."

He chuckled, kissing her neck again.

"We own Unser Baby. And Hale would probably get off watching. I've seen the way he eyed you before he found out we're together. Anybody else . . . let 'em fucking watch. I want to fuck _**my **_**Old Lady** . . . nobody should have a problem with that."

She went to speak but he surged forward again and she knew it was a lost cause. Whatever he'd done last night was obviously still in his system . . . especially if he was tossing about the Old Lady moniker like this . . . Besides, she wasn't going to lie and say that this wouldn't help either of them. She needed something-anything-to help make all of this fade . . . even for a moment. And Tig had just admitted pretty much the same.

She relaxed into the leather and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting go of the worry of being caught and just enjoying his attention. When she came again, he grinned, kissing the bright bruise her white scoop necked shirt was never going to cover. As she felt herself start to wind up again, she knew by the increased force of his thrusts he was close. But his words ensured she wasn't going to wait on him as he nipped the spot again, his blunt teeth scraping against her flesh.

She loved it when he actually talked to her, let himself show and be raw. But this was new. Maybe she should go thank the Indians . . .

"This is where I want to see my mark, Baby Girl. Right where anyone and everyone can see it. I want the whole fucking world to see proof that you're mine. _**MY **_**Old Lady**."

* * *

Tig watched her head fall back and into the leather as she came around him. She was so damned tight . . . He groaned, letting himself go as he pressed his forehead into the curve of her neck. He wasn't sure he'd be able to **walk** much less _ride_ after this . . . but he needed it. Needed her. Especially with the shit Gemma had just pulled. He knew it was because of the rape . . . that she'd finally let her fears get the best of her. But in the state he was in, still looping from the shroom-trip he'd taken . . . and the brawl he and Opie had over him leaving Ripley alone last night and Stahl's pop up appearance at his house earlier this morning, he was the first to admit his head wasn't on straight. So when Gem had dropped the guns, he'd tried to help her get them up . . . and when she pulled her robe aside . . . He shook his head. Thank God they'd taken out the damn picture wall. Because he knew the only thing that had stopped him had been seeing the cracked pictures of Jax and Tommy . . . and of Gemma and Rip at her college graduation. A similar picture hung in Ripley's sitting area . . . And it had been enough to jar him back into his brain.

He sighed, not wanting to move as he burrowed deeper into his girl's hold. He had to tell her . . . and he was doing it now. He was serious about inking her and they weren't going to have any secrets between them. Especially not with the doubt the fucking Harpy had planted . . .

He moved, propping himself on his elbows as he looked at her. She was gorgeous all of the time but he loved the way she looked in the afterglow. Cheeks flushed and eyes lidded, lips kiss-swollen and parted. He dipped, kissing her lightly before sliding back and out of her. They both groaned but moved to set themselves to rights before he pulled her into him and reached out to shut the door. Now he could see her point about this being borderline insane . . . but he honestly couldn't say he regretted it. And judging from the way she snuggled into his cut-clad chest and sighed contentedly she didn't either.

"Ripley . . . We gotta talk, Baby."

She looked up at him through thick lashes and he couldn't keep himself from dipping and kissing the tip of her nose. One of her odd habits that had rubbed off on him. She rolled her eyes and scooted closer, moving to rest her head on his shoulder as his hand found its way to her curls. That were even wilder now . . .

"Then talk, Alex. I'll listen . . . you know that. Tell me what's on your mind."

He swallowed but nodded, starting with the fight with Opie and Clay telling them about Gemma. She nodded, listening before speaking.

"While I appreciate Opie looking out for me . . . I'm going to kick his ass for touching you. I don't have to agree with every Club decision to support it . . . and Stahl coming and knocking on his door wasn't your fault."

Tig shrugged, pulling her closer.

"I think it's the fact that he sees what she led us to do. All of that anger has to go somewhere Baby. And I know I deserved every hit I took from him. I took so much from him because of her . . . I can handle a scuffle to keep his demons from consuming him. So don't say anything. It's between Brothers and no one else's business."

She huffed but nodded and he knew she was pouting. And that he had probably just saved Opie an ass kicking. She would've walked tall on his ass any other day just to prove she could do it . . . but he knew with how still she got that she was pissed.

"Fine. What else?"

He shifted, squirming in the seat before gathering up his balls and telling her. Christ on a cracker this was worse than telling Gemma or his mother-God rest her soul- no. But he did it.

* * *

Ripley pulled away from him to look at his face . . . and the only thing that saved him was the pure remorse she saw there. She sighed, knowing she needed to talk with Gemma about all of this. But first she needed to deal with Tig. She moved to the opposite side of the seat, pulling her knees up to her chest and laid her forehead on them. If she ever got her hands on Zobelle she would kill him. He'd caused so much damage here that she was beginning to doubt if they would ever fix it . . .Tig's hand on hers made her lift her eyes to his.

She loved him so fucking much but . . . she shook her head, clearing that thought. They would work through this. Just like they had most everything else since they'd gotten together. She nodded to him once and, after glancing to the front door of Gemma's house, moved back into him. As he wrapped his arms around her, she sighed and just let herself be held.

"I am so sorry, Baby. I am so fucking sorry. But I stopped. I stopped because I saw you. I love you. I couldn't do that to you . . . or to Clay and Gemma. I've always been fucked in the head, Ripley. But I swear on my daughters I will never hurt you. Not like that. Not with her . . ."

She nodded, looking up at him before kissing his chin.

"I believe you . . . And I love you too."

He caught her chin in his grasp, forcing her to look at him when she went to turn away. The intensity in those blue eyes startled her . . . but not near as much as his words.

"I was serious before. It wasn't just heat of the moment shit . . . I _**want **_you to be my Old Lady. To wear my ink . . ."

He reached out, tracing the bruise on her chest before continuing.

"Right here. I want you with me . . . to know everything . . . no secrets, no lies. And no one else."

She blinked and nodded as his words sank in. The dark grin that split his face made heat pool in her belly as the kiss he gave her made her knees feel like Jell-O. He opened the door and got out, helping her to her feet and holding her flush against him while he looked around. He winked down at her, chuckling.

"I think we're clear, Baby. No one seems to have caught us today . . . maybe next time."

She rolled her eyes, smacking his chest hard as she went to step towards the house. He caught her, spinning her back into him as he pushed his lips against hers. When they parted, he rubbed his cheek against hers, holding her to him for a few long moments before letting her go.

"I love you . . . Be careful okay?"

He nodded, going to his bike before stopping. He turned, suddenly seeming sheepish. Well, as sheepish as a sex-sated and half stoned Tig Trager can be anyway.

"Happy rolls in tomorrow. I know the timing sucks but . . . I could get him to give you the ink tomorrow night . . . If you want it."

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. She already had the black phoenix on her back . . . what was one more black bird? Besides this one was one she would cherish forever, almost as much as Tig would . . . she could do that.

"Sure . . . on one condition."

He looked up and stopped, brow raised as his sunglasses stayed suspended near his face. She walked over to him, trying not to let the look on his face deter her. He was so damned paranoid when he wanted to be . . . She stopped in front of him, smiling as she reached out and pushed his glasses on then pulled them down to where she could see his eyes. Eyes that were still watching her like she was about to shoot him or something. She leaned in and whispered.

"I'll wear your ink, be your Old Lady if you swear to me right now that after Gemma gets her justice, and Zobelle and his boys are pushed through my morgue that you will personally deliver the scumbag who killed London to me. The Sons can help . . . but I want his head, Tigger. Not him in jail or awaiting execution. I want him."

* * *

Tig was sure that the words that had poured from Ripley's mouth were deadly serious . . . but he couldn't help the heat that soared through his veins and turned his blood to fucking lava. He _**knew**_ he was fucked up, he knew he was twisted and perverse but to hear _**that**_ . . . he shook himself and nodded, moving to catch her lips with his own as he pulled her closer into him. He knew she would do what she'd just told him she would . . . and he would definitely deliver the bastard to her.

"Then he's as good as gift wrapped, Baby. Happy and I will take care of it as soon as this is over. Consider him a wedding present."

She nodded and stepped back, letting him pull off and make his way to Teller Morrow. He smirked as he rode, wondering how long it would take her to catch on to that little tidbit . . .

* * *

Ripley had found Gemma in her hallway, looking at the very picture that Tig had sworn stopped what almost happened. But she looked so broken that she couldn't force the anger she knew she should feel. She knew, better than most, what this had done to Gemma. While Zobelle hadn't broken her he had rattle her resolve. And with Clay not being there hardly any after telling him . . . She closed her eyes and shook her head.

Gemma looked up, eyes watering as she finally noticed her . . . and she watched her crumble. This breakdown needed to happen or she was never going to heal. And while Tig had done the right thing for them . . . she knew his rejection-no matter how noble-had messed with Gemma's already fragile self-esteem. She knelt in front of her and cupped her cheek, letting Gemma lean into the contact.

"I am so sorry, Baby . . . I just . . . _Oh __**God**_what did I almost do?"

She sighed, pulling Gemma into her and rocking her as she wept. She knew that neither was in the right place . . . so this could easily be forgiven. She just hoped she never had to figure out what she would do if it happened again.

* * *

Hours later, as they sat in the office of T&M, Gemma watched Ripley hover near the door. The boys had gone to run their errands . . . and Chibs had already talked with her, asking her advice. She'd told him to come clean, that it was the only way while Ripley had watched from the sidelines. She knew that the girl was keeping a close eye on her after what happened before . . . but she couldn't really fault her for it. Hell, the last time someone made a play for Clay-under orders or not-she'd taken a skateboard to the bitch's face. Ripley was showing amazing compassion and understanding . . . proof that she wasn't as cold and heartless as she could seem.

But now, as she watched her Gemma could tell something was different. Ripley seemed down because of what had happened . . . but she also seemed at peace. And almost glowing. She raised a brow as the girl moved . . . and her shirt slipped just enough to show the top of a very large, very dark bruise . . . shaped like a set of teeth. She smirked.

"So . . . when did you find the time to let Tigger use you as a chewtoy? Because I **_know_** that wasn't there yesterday . . ."

Ripley's head jerked towards her so hard it was a miracle the girl's neck didn't snap. And her cheeks flushed such a bright red Gemma was sure that whatever had happened was good. And juicy. Just what she needed to take their minds off of waiting.

"Well?"

Ripley's blush deepened as she moved to sit in front of the desk, tugging the shirt up and back over the mark as she muttered darkly.

"I am _**so**_ going to get him a fucking muzzle."

Gemma laughed, leaning back. Oh this was going to be good.

"_**Oooh**_ . . . C'mon, spill it. I need a good romp. Even if it_** is **_voyeuristic. Did you run into him at the Club this morning before you went to see Otto? Or did he meet you at home to change before Clay called Church?"

Ripley shook her head, her cheeks darkening to an almost purple color as Gemma leaned forward perplexed.

"Well? Where did you sneak in the quickie sweetheart? Hm?"

Ripley sank deeper into the chair, mumbling. Gemma leaned closer, hating that she couldn't hear her. Finally she got aggravated and crossed her arms, glaring at her goddaughter. The girl was being willfully obtuse.

"Oh for God's sake Ripley. It's not like you fucked him on the Church table or in the middle of the damn garage . . ."

Ripley groaned, burying her face in her hands as she finally answered . . . and left Gemma too shocked for words. Her little, itty bitty goddaughter had . . . oh she didn't know whether or not to be proud or pissed. Proud of Tigger for getting Ripley to loosen up enough to let him take care of her . . . or pissed that he hadn't at least made sure that they weren't going to get arrested for fucking in public.

"No, _**Aunt **_Gemma. Just the back of my Chevelle in _**your**_ damned driveway! I _**swear**_ I'm going to _**kill **_him . . ."

Gemma finally let it sink in and laughed, long and hard. So hard that she was crying by the time that Tig popped his head in to check on them. When she saw him, she just laughed harder, laying her head on the desk and shaking with the force of her laughter and tears. When she looked back up, Tig was looking at her like she was crazy while Ripley was glaring at him. And that's when Gemma spotted the dark peachy pink colored lipstick stain on Tig's neck. She reached for her purse, digging out tissue as she tried to stop laughing.

She stood, offering them to him as he looked at her perplexed. Ripley raised a brow and Gemma bent, pointing to the spot and chuckled as Ripley's cheeks went crimson again. Oh her little ones were growing up so fast . . . She waved the tissue at him, grinning.

"Tigger, your makeup's running . . ."

Tig turned, looking in the broken mirror on the wall and paled when he saw the mark before grabbing the tissue and trying to get it off. When it wouldn't come off, he turned to Ripley and glared.

"Jesus what did you do? Tattoo it on my fucking neck?"

She shrugged cheeks still burning as she turned and snubbed him, arms crossed and her nose in the air as she refused to look at him as he narrowed his eyes at her. Gemma tried not to laugh as she watched them. For two people who fucked constantly theys sure were acting awfully shy about being caught . . . Ripley's next words however had her choking back giggles. Oh, she had to tell Clay he was wrong . . . Ripley wasn't going to have any problem keeping Tigger in line . . .

"Oh please. At least I didn't leave a bruise the size of a fist. It looks like I got bit by a softball with teeth, _**Alex**_ . . . I do not want to hear bitching about a little lipstick."

He shrugged, his glare melting into a smirk as he dipped and pulled Ripley to her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist as he crushed his lips to hers. Gemma thought for a second he'd forgotten they weren't alone . . . until he pulled back and steadied her on her feet. He touched his forehead to hers as Tara and Jax walked in, both surprised by the display of affection they'd just happened across. But Gemma was happy that Tig didn't pull away from Ripley . . . or push further to antagonize Jax.

She smiled as he just kissed her again, rubbing his thumb across her cheek as she looked up at him.

"I love you . . . you gonna be okay while we go?"

She nodded, closing her eyes as she leaned into his touch.

"Yeah . . . Otto asked me and Gemma to pack up LuAnne's . . . and start dealing with her estate and stuff. I checked earlier with Rosen and it's all in order . . . I just have to go sign the papers and start the process . . ."

* * *

Tig nodded and pulled the gun he'd brought from their home out of his belt, pressing it and the extra clip he'd taped around it into her hands. She took it and nodded, kissing him again before he stepped back and looked to Jax. He didn't care for the way the boy kept looking from him to Ripley . . . but the brat could deal with it. Today was not the day for Jax's shit. His good mood wouldn't last long if it surfaced.

He turned back as Ripley reached up with her free hand and cupped his cheek, tracing the cut. She knew how he and Jax were . . . and she wasn't going to let them do this . . . not with Gemma here and so damn fragile. He nodded at the look in her eyes, leaning into her touch as she just traced his skin.

"Be careful okay? I'm not getting that damn tattoo tomorrow if you're not here and in one piece . . . okay?"

He grinned, loving the look of shock that flittered across the boy's face as he nodded and kissed her palm.

"Yes, Ma'am. Consider me the carefulest motherfucker in the world. You and Gemma be safe. And smart. Stay together and use this damn thing if any trouble starts, alright?"

She nodded, grinning.

"I know what to do if there's trouble . . . Tigger. I _**was**_ raised in this . . . you know?"

He nodded, kissing her forehead before stepping back and to Jax, nodding for him to follow. Jax looked at Tara, nodding to Ripley and Gemma.

"Go with them . . . safest place for you to be is with them. God knows if anything happens Ripley's damn deadly with that Desert Eagle. So is Mom. They'll take care of you . . . Right?"

Tig watched Gemma nod, motioning Tara to come stand by her as Ripley smirked and dipped her head once. He smirked, winking at her. His girl would be fine . . . he just wished he could keep her beside him as all of this shit started to go down.


	27. Chapter 27

LuAnne and Otto's home was small and neat . . . which made packing the two bedroom one bath house a lot easier than Ripley had ever hoped for. They'd already gotten the kitchen and the bathroom sequestered into the boxes they'd stopped and gotten and were almost done with LuAnne's office. Ripley sighed, looking over the pictures hanging on the walls. There was no way anyone would've ever guessed stepping into LuAnne's home that she'd been a Pornstar-turned-Producer . . . or the Old Lady of Big Otto Delaney . . . until they stepped in here.

The pictures lining LuAnne's office were of different shapes and sizes, in both color and black and white . . . but they were all of the Club and its members. There were a few up of her and her own family-people who had turned their backs on her until she'd started making money- but the majority were of Otto and the Sons. One however, caught her eye and she knew without a doubt she would be taking it home to hang in her own office space. The small black and white strip of five little pictures was matted and framed, hanging beside their wedding photo and a picture of them with her parents. LuAnne and Otto had come to Long Beach to visit her during a break, a few weeks before Otto went away . . . and they'd all crammed in a photo booth and had their picture taken. Otto was smiling in the top one, holding LuAnne and her in fake chokeholds as they acted like they were choking. The second and third they both crammed in front of him, blocking the gentle giant from view as they laughed and winked at the camera. The fourth LuAnne had Otto's hat on as Ripley herself rolled her eyes at their antics . . . but the last one was by far the best. Otto's arms were tossed over their shoulders and they were all smiling, though Otto was looking down at LuAnne like she was his world.

She wiped at her eyes, trying to stop the tears. She had been his world . . . his everything. And now she was gone. She sighed, taking the frame down and sitting it to the side before gathering the others and lining them in the box. She'd keep these and the others and store them until Otto's release. Then he could do whatever he wanted with them. But she wasn't going to let them get tossed. She'd already gotten LuAnne's back up and hardcopy files and put them in the trunk of her Chevelle to take to Bobby. He'd have to go over them and make sure that Cara Cara was in order . . . because she was going to be giving them a huge present when this settled.

LuAnne had left her as the sole inheritor and executor of her will, leaving a letter explaining that she knew she would do right by both Otto and the Club . . . and with Otto incarcerated she couldn't leave it to him without the risk of it being seized by the State and the Feds. So they'd talked and she'd been the most logical solution. She was SAMCRO without being truly affiliated . . . and she would do right by them.

She sighed, raking her fingers through her hair to turn at the knock on the door. She looked up to see Lyla standing there, dressed in jeans and loose tee shirt with her hair down and her face clean of makeup. With big, tear rimmed red eyes. Ripley sat the last picture in the box and opened her arms to the other girl, closing her arms around the sobbing blonde as she practically melted into her. Gemma was hurting because LuAnne had been a close friend-despite their ups and downs- and Tara was upset because it had happened. But Lyla was devastated . . . hurt and shocked by the loss of the only person-save Opie and her own son-who had ever tried to love her.

Lyla had told her more than a few times that LuAnne had talked with her about the cocaine problem . . . and had offered to try and get her help. She'd also warned her and Ima about going to Georgie Boy when they'd been shut down by the Feds, making them swear to not end up like the rest of his talent. Hooked on meth and turning tricks when the lights went out and the cameras stopped rolling.

She shushed the sobbing girl, petting her hair as she cried and knew that now she would have to make sure she did right by LuAnne and Otto . . . and Lyla with what she'd been left. Because that's what family did for one another . . . and as of this moment Cara Cara and its staff were strictly family.

* * *

When Ripley drug into the Club late that night, she'd handed Bobby the boxes of files and discs as well as LuAnne's personal laptop. She'd already talked to Juice and Opie and as soon as they pulled everything they needed off of it and stored the rest on an external hard drive she was going to have them wipe it clean and give it to Ellie and Kenny to replace the dinosaur masquerading as a computer in the Winston house. Lyla was at Ope's, having come and helped them pack up the last of LuAnne's home and sort out what needed to be donated and what needed to be saved.

Unser was sending a truck to pick up the few pieces of furniture she'd slotted to store and put them in one of his buildings . . . and the local Good will would be coming to get the rest of the furniture, house goods and clothes tomorrow morning. Tig had promised that either him or one of the others would be there with her before he'd cut their call short. Now that she was at the Club she saw why.

The Nomads had swarmed SAMCRO, as well as few from Tacoma and the Devil's Tribe patch over . . . but with what they were surely planning it really didn't surprise her. She shrugged, moving to the bar and signaling for Chibs to come over. He smirked, hopping the bar and made his way to her, tossing a not-so-clean towel over his shoulders as he smirked across the bar top at her.

"And what can I get ya, Lass?"

She smiled, reaching up to pat his scarred cheek. She was glad he was okay . . . and seemed to have dug himself out of his whole. She liked Chibs. He really was a dear man . . . and a good Brother.

"A double shot of Jack, please. Neat and chilled if it's not too much trouble."

He nodded, turning to get her drink with over exaggerated movements and a flourish of grandstanding which had her shaking her head and laughing. She needed that after the past few weeks. Movement beside her caught her attention and she turned, slowly to see a new face had decided to take the seat to her left. She raised a brow as she saw the Tacoma Sgt at Arms patch but shrugged it off and nodded to the blonde haired stranger.

Who, true to the apparent Romeo standard all Sgt at Arms seemed to have, turned a 1000 watt smile on her as he eyed the drink Chibs slid in front of her. The dark look he leveled on the man made her curious . . . but she figured she'd find out soon enough.

Blondie's smile darkened a bit as she downed her drink and she knew whatever was about to pour out of his mouth-coupled with his roguish good looks, the patch and easy going demeanor- probably got him laid almost as much as Tigger's asshole tendencies did. Too bad she wasn't interested.

Chibs shook his head, turning to ignore the new Sgt completely as he looked solely to her.

"Another then, Darling?"

She nodded, suddenly feeling she might need it if this idiot didn't get the message. If she pushed enough alcohol into her system, Tig and the others might actually buy that she'd just started a drunken brawl . . . Clay and Piney would know off the bat but she was sure Gemma could keep them in line.

"Wow . . . Stout drink for such a little thing. You sure can handle it?"

She raised a brow before rolling her eyes as she shook her head and shrugged out of the toffee leather aviator coat she'd donned before going to LuAnne's. She'd been lucky enough to con Gemma and Tara into going home with her to change . . . so she could at least go to Rosen's without having to showcase the huge bite mark on her chest. Besides, the fitted white turtleneck with ¾ length sleeves looked great against her skin . . . and the dark washed, distressed jeans tucked into Tig's favorite toffee leather boots she'd changed into at the last minute. She now knew Tig Trager and skirts were two things that could never happen again . . . and she felt better being covered from this guy's eyes . . . even if large patches of her thighs were bared to him.

"I think I can manage . . ."

He shrugged, still smirking as he leaned against the bar and his eyes roamed over her. She took the new drink from Chibs, shaking her head as he glared to Blondie. She'd handle this . . . if it went too far.

"I bet you can. I'm Kozik. Sgt at Arms for the Tacoma Charter."

She smirked at him, laughing at the weird name in her head before remembering her Old Man did go by the name Tig . . . and her Pops' nickname had been Reaper. To each their own . . .

"Ripley Shaw. Nice to meet you Kozik. You here with the others to help clear this rats' nest?"

He nodded, grinning as he moved a bit closer and Chibs rolled his eyes, slamming a beer down beside the other man before draining half of his own. Kozik glared at Tig before turning back to her and shrugging.

"Yeah . . . But I actually patched in with Charming. Jumped to Tacoma a few years ago . . . Needed more space. But I can honestly say I don't remember you . . ."

She shrugged, leaning in a bit closer as she winked to Chibs.

"Just moved to town earlier this year . . . but I gotta tell you, Kozik, I don't remember _**you**_ at all . . . and I know _**all**_ of the Sons . . . "

* * *

Kozik raised a brow at the pretty little thing he'd been chatting up. She'd just said she'd just moved here . . . so how would she remember him? He smoothed his face back into a smile. She was probably nuts . . . but Tigger had been eying her pretty heavy when she'd pulled up before he and Clay had gone to talk with Quinn and his own President . . . and he would lose his credibility if he let Tig get away without hassling him. They had a few issues-the whole fucking reason he'd jumped-and he never missed the opportunity to harass the other Sgt if he could help it. It was too much damn fun . . .

"Oh really? And how would you know me, Babydoll?"

Kozik knew as soon as her smile turned dark and she shifted, stretching back and turning so he could see how built and fucking limber she was that he was definitely in for a wild night if he could swing it. No wonder Trager hadn't let his eyes wander to the other sweet butts or Croweaters . . . But the words that popped up right next to his ear brought his whole plan for the evening crashing down around him.

"Because our Pops made your spot, dipshit. Now beat it so I can see my sister . . ."

He turned back slowly, coming face-to-face with Khail Guadimus. The Son of the Redwood Original Sgt at Arms . . . the Scythe of the Reaper. Jesus Christ . . . _**that**__ meant_ . . . he turned to the girl and paled as she winked, waving.

"Buh-bye, Kozzy. Nice meeting you."

He didn't need to be told twice . . . he was out. But he wasn't going too far. Because Trager was in for a world of hurt. The man talking with her now was the only other Sgt-besides the two of them-that all of the Charters feared and respected. And not just because of who his Pops was . . . Khail was a _**ruthless**_ bastard. And _**crazy**_. Christ . . . if she was anything like her brother then he'd dodged a bullet there.

* * *

Khail watched Kozik vanish into the see of Brothers before shaking his head and turning to Chibs, who was barely containing his own laughter. God these guys were going to let her run wild . . .

"Get me a beer, would ya Chibs? And another drink for my sister before she starts a fucking brawl."

Ripley rolled her eyes, looking to Chibs as he handed him his drink.

"Do you think I would start a fight Chibsy? Really?"

Chibs snorted, patting her hand with faux sympathy before turning to get her drink.

"Absofuckinglutely, Little Missie. I saw what you were capable of before you and Tigger finally decided fucking was better than fighting. You'd do it to watch it happen."

He slid her drink to her and turned to Khail, arms crossed.

"And you shoulda let her. Boy was asking for it. Knows better than to hit on another Son's Old Lady . . . even an _unofficial_ one."

Khail nodded before draining over half of his beer. He'd heard the rumors filtering through the Charters over the past few months that Tig had found another Old Lady . . . . and that it was the daughter of the First Sgt. And while he wasn't particularly thrilled to have to call Tig a brother-in-law, he knew if they were serious no one would take better care of her. He'd been through Tacoma before Clay had asked for a new Sgt after Rip went away to school . . . and had seen the man before his Ex fucked everything up. He was loyal to a fault . . . and borderline obsessive with keeping her happy. But it never affected the Club or his spot. So when Tig had asked for a transfer to Charming-back to his home town apparently-after the very bitter divorce, Khail had offered up that the other man was good Son from what he'd seen.

Had he known that the simple conversation would set Ripley up to be an Old Lady he might not have done it . . . but he could see she was happy. Even with the stress and strain of everything. Happy and Clay had told him that Rip had kept Gemma's secret while she was dealing with everything on this Lodi killer case . . . and he knew she should be a wreck. But she wasn't. She wasn't withdrawing the way she did when she was usually overworked or stressed, she wasn't trying to micromanage. She seemed . . . relaxed. More relaxed than he'd seen since they'd buried their parents . . . It was . . . odd to say the least.

He turned, seeing Tig walk out of the Church and start towards the bar . . . but he didn't let on. He wanted to see what would happen . . . because Happy had told him something else too. Tig had asked Clay for permission to ink Ripley . . . make her an official Old Lady. And Clay had given Hap the go-ahead to do the tat when Tig asked. Which was slated for tomorrow night before the lock-in.

Clay had told him to pass his blessings on-should he feel the need to-but first he wanted to see them together. He'd seen Tigger with the Harpy and he'd seen him with Croweaters and Sweet Butts alike. He knew what to look for and if he didn't see it then he was going to tell Ripley to let this whole mess go before she got hurt . . . She was the only family he had left that mattered . . . other than the Sons . . .

* * *

Ripley jumped as arms circled her waist and pulled her back into a solid, leather clad chest. But the second she felt lips behind her ear and the grin spread across them she knew it was Tig. She smacked him, rolling her eyes as he chuckled before dragging a stool over so he could sit behind her. He pulled her back, letting her back sit flush against his chest as he balanced them, keeping his arms around her waist as she turned back to look at him.

He grinned down at her, bringing a ring clad hand up to lightly flick her nose before kissing her. She rolled her eyes before leaning into the kiss . . . and was disappointed when he pulled back too soon. She turned, snubbing him as the multiple shots of Jack warmed her up just enough to goad him in public without caring. She could taste the beer on his own lips so she knew he was probably right there with her.

"You are a goober, Tig Trager. And a killjoy."

He laughed, resting his chin in the curve of her neck as he nodded to Khail. Chibs slid another drink for her and a fresh beer for Tig to them, shaking his head before turning to her brother.

"They're sickening. Hard to think when this wee lass moved here they hated one another something fierce . . . now they're barely apart."

Ripley shrugged, leaning back into her Old Man as he pulled her tighter, kissing her neck. Khail however just nodded, chuckling as he watched them. And suddenly Ripley knew what Tig was doing. He was behaving because Khail was here . . . the same way he did around Bobby or Piney or Clay. Her brother's voice brought her back to the present and she suddenly wanted to kill him.

"Yeah well Ripley always has been difficult to live with. Hell, I met the poor son of a bitch that she dated forever in Long Beach a few times . . . and I swear the only reason he could handle her was he was probably just as damn mean as she was. And huge. Bigger than Opie or Piney ever had time to be . . ."

* * *

Ripley kicked Khail in the shin hard enough to make Tig wince. He however just laughed and soothed her, trying to let her know it was fine. He knew what Khail was up to-had been warned by Clay earlier that with the Nomad Son riding in he'd better be ready to give real answers and be on some serious good behavior. And he and Ripley had talked about her old lovers . . . he knew about the guy Khail was baiting him with and it didn't faze him. He spread her over their bed every fucking night and made her scream his name . . . And after tomorrow no one else would stand a chance of ever doing that. So he would let Khail do what he had to . . . He was her brother after all.

"So I've heard, Khail. She apparently likes 'em mean and crazy . . ."

Khail smirked, nodding as Ripley blushed and buried her face in his chest, grumbling about traitorous boyfriends and hassling brothers. And cackling Scotsmen.

"Just like she is . . . takes too much after our folks . . . God in Heaven help you, Brother. Because she is **all **_**your**_ problem now. When Happy doing the Crow, Twisted Sister?"

Chibs' laughter died as Tig smirked, pulling Ripley out of his chest and making her turn to face her brother as she answered him.

"Tomorrow night . . . why wanna come watch me get tortured?"

Tig watched as he laughed, shaking his head.

"Nope. I was there for the one on your back. All seven hours of it. No need for me to be there for this one. You doing it here or at the house?"

She shrugged, looking to Tig. He shrugged back before looking to Khail.

"Probably the house . . . that way she can at least sleep there one more night. Speaking of which, we're heading home. You riding or you crashing here?"

Khail grinned, waggling his eyebrows at Ripley as she rolled her eyes.

"Think I'll crash here. Wouldn't want to walk in on anything . . . though from what the VP was saying it wouldn't be the first time."

Tig watched as Ripley dove on her brother, grabbing his ear and jerking hard as she forced his head down and onto the bar top hissing at him to keep his mouth shut. He shook his head, going to talk to Clay before he left. He needed to remind his friend that his wife-while very appreciative of this-still needed to know her husband loved her. Maybe if he could get them back on track, after the dust settled he and Ripley could do some settling of their own . . . if she didn't kill herself taking out her now screaming and laughing brother first . . .


	28. Chapter 28

_Okay. Alot happens here. we get to the end of Season 2 . . . and we get to see some of the emotional turmoil that ripley's been trying to keep under control. I know she seems cold and heartless up until this point with some of the stuff going on but . . . its just the way the character goes . . . and why she is such a bitch to write sometimes. she's been raised by someone just as fucked as Tig and she's pretty messed up herself . . . so this is going to take time to work out and process with her . . . so bear with me and do not strangle, stab, shoot or maim me. I swear it all serves a purpose . . ._

_

* * *

_

Ripley's hand reached to scratch the tender, itching spot over her heart . . . and she had to force her hand back down to her desk. She knew that she didn't need to touch it. She couldn't pick, peal, scratch or scrub the rather large and intricate black crow spanning a little over half of her left breast . . . but by God she wanted to. Happy had done a _**wonderful**_ job . . . and, when Tig had left the room told her that the design was actually extremely close to the Crow her own mother had worn . . . Tig had gone to Gemma and gotten the pictures to make it as close as possible . . . with a few minor deviations that made it his. Like the lighter blue tints to the edge of the wings and the cracked and intricately swirl horned skull in the background or the olden revolver in the foreground . . . rather than the rose her father had picked for her mom. And the small intricate little word calligraphied right beneath the talons of the bird . . . Tig had done something that still took her breath away when she saw it . . . The tattoo itself was gorgeous and nothing like what any of the other Old Ladies had . . . but dear God it _**itched**_!

She sighed, looking over the reports on her desk . . . deliberately **not** looking at London's casefile still sitting to the side of her desk, London's smiling face printed across the glossy picture paperclipped to the front. She closed her eyes, trying to not think of how just a few days ago she'd been holding her. Kissing her and laughing with her as she traced the kanji for her first name that London had over her heart, loving the little squeals she would make as they just enjoyed the time together . . . And how she'd squandered the opportunity to tell her how she felt. And now she never would . . . she shook her head, trying to clear the tears she felt building behind her eyes. She hadn't really told anyone how fucking much losing her lover had destroyed her. She knew Tig had started to pick up on it . . . but she was pretty sure he was misdirecting it towards the other shit going on. She knew she shouldn't be afraid to tell him but if there was anything LuAnne and Gemma had taught her was that men _very rarely_ comprehended the _complex_ emotions of women . . . . even if Tig had shown a great aptitude for understanding and surprised even her by having Happy add her fallen lover's name on the barel of the revolver.

She shook her head, giving into the temptation and tracing London's face before turning the file over and closing her eyes again, letting the tears fall for a few minutes before composing herself. She had so much going on . . . she shouldn't be sitting here trying not to squawl at work. But this was too much to handle. The only thing giving her any peace-of-mind was Tig's promise. As soon as Gemma's debt was settled . . . then London's would be next. But until then it would probably be best for her to not look at the file again . . . or the picture of them from Long Beach that stayed tucked neatly in her desk drawer . . . or, for that matter, LuAnne's file that was slotted neatly in the 'Resolved' bin holder. She ran a hand over her face, thankful she hadn't worn makeup . . .

And that the loose tunic styled grayish purple tank top was loose enough to not bind her healing chest but dressy enough that she could get away with it at work. That paired with the simple black cardigan and torn designer jeans with her black heeled half-boots made her seem relaxed (though she knew she looked like death warmed over despite her Old Man's protest against it) . . . while the long golden necklace with the big black feather and other trinkets-the very same one she'd worn to meet the Harpy- and Tig's Reaper ring made her feel more secure. She knew what they were doing today, despite the outright lie she'd told Hale when he'd asked, and she had worried herself sick over what could happen to her Old Man.

A movement to her side caught her eye and she glanced up. Khail had volunteered to stay with her, swearing that he wouldn't let anything happen to her and that two Sgt at Arms out wreaking havoc today was enough. She watched him shift, reading the huge and worn leather volume of Edgar Allan Poe, his own thick black rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose and had to smile. Her brother, despite what some of the Sons thought, was an extremely intelligent person and a brilliant strategist-like his father before him-but he'd figured out the best weapon was the weapon of surprise. Few people knew he had just as many doctorates as her-though in classical literature and mechanical engineering- and that he had actually taught for a while before he'd decided to Prospect. She was just thankful he was smart enough to let her have her small breakdown spasms in relative peace while he read. Or pretended to read, as it was . . .

She shook her head . . . watching him was painful for her. He looked so much like their Pops-save lighter hair and slightly slimmer build-that it was a pang in the heart . . . but she knew she was the same way for him about their Mom. Her mother had raised Mikhail from the age of seven. She was his mother the same way Ed Guadimus was her father. And they were siblings . . . despite the little fact of them not sharing blood. She knew he had another older sister and she had an older half-brother and a set of younger twin brothers as well . . . but neither really spoke to them. Khail's sister was a crack whore and her oldest brother was a douchebag . . . she'd be interested in knowing the twins but she wasn't going to put herself through dealing with the father who didn't want her and his new trophy wife . . .

She turned back to the files and nearly jumped out of her skin when the prepaid Tig had pushed into her hands started dancing across the desktop. She placed a hand over her thumping heart and glared at Khail as he chuckled, never looking up from his book as he laughed at her, trying to lighten her mood.

"Better get that, spazoid. Wouldn't want your _**Old Man**_ to worry."

She grumbled, flipping the phone open as she glared at her soon to be dead sibling. As soon as she was sure she could hit him without doing too much damage he was so in for a serious beating . . .

"Yeah?"

"_That anyway to talk to your __**Old Man**__, sweetheart?_"

She rolled her eyes, her lips spreading into a small grin at the sheer pride in Tigger's voice as he said that. God, he'd practically strutted into the Clubhouse like he owned it when they'd grouped earlier despite her overall haggard (in her opinion anyway) appearance. And as Clay had given the announcement for them to stay put and be safe, she'd felt her knees go weak at the way he'd held her to him. Her back to his chest with both of his arms wrapped around her; one around her waist and the other under her right arm draping up and over her left shoulder, his thumb lightly caressing the bandaged tat as Clay had spoken. She shivered, drawing herself back and into the present.

"Maybe . . . never know whose calling. Besides, you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it."

His dark little chuckle worked its way over her flesh and right down to pool in her abdomen, despite her tears and darker mood. Oh he was so getting it when they got home . . . maybe they could actually make some of this go away for a while . . . even if it did come crashing back in around her as soon as the post orgasmic bliss faded . . .

"_You know I __**love**__ it, Baby. You feeling any better?"_

She shrugged, turning to prop her feet on the desk as she stretched.

"A little. My nerves are just shot from all of this . . . . you know? Why? Worried?"

"_Only about you, Baby. And always about you."_

She smiled again, tracing the bandage as she started asking about things. Anything to keep herself focused on the matter at hand . . .

"How goes the power play? Actually getting to do anything or still just waiting?"

He chuckled and she felt her hackles rise. He hadn't used that particular little laugh with her in very long time . . . and she suddenly flashed back to wanting to stab him. She knew now that he was antagonizing someone as they talked. And she knew he would more than likely be successful at goading whoever into action. God in heaven help them . . .

"_Oh yeah . . . plenty of fucking action here. We got ourselves a regular Mexican stand off . . . too bad all the Mexicans are too much of fucking pussies to actually make a move."_

She sighed, hearing Clay and what sounded like Chibs grumble in the background. She suddenly felt bad for whoever got stuck with keeping Tig in line . . .

"Baby . . . please try to behave until the order's given. I love you but I will totally understand if Clay shoots you."

He grumbled.

"_You are so not getting laid if keep that shit up you hateful bitch."_

She laughed, shaking her head.

"Oh I'll get whatever I want . . . and I love you too. Khail and I are at the morgue so if you do actually finish up soon I'll still be here."

"_You sure you should be there? I mean . . . with everything else going on . . . just . . . Be careful. And leave if it gets to be to much . . ."_

She nodded, knowing it was stupid since he couldn't see it but she didn't care. Her fingers started twirling his ring and she was suddenly very afraid for him. She knew something was going to happen . . . she just didn't know what yet.

"I will. You be careful too, you hear me? I didn't get inked to be Lady in Black, okay? i'm burying enough people this month . . . Come home."

"_Always darling. And only to you. Look, Clay's wanting us to move out and go rattle some other cages . . . I gotta go. See you soon. Love you."_

She closed her eyes, sending up a silent prayer that this wouldn't be the last time she heard those words from him. He'd just gotten to the point of saying it . . . she didn't want to lose that. Not when she'd just gotten it.

"I love you too, Alex. See you soon."

And with that, the line went dead and she knew her brother was watching her . . . but she couldn't help herself. She laid her head on the desk and tried to fight the wave of sorrow moving through her. She'd lost London and LuAnne. Almost lost Gemma to these bastards. She didn't want to lose him.

* * *

As Tig rolled into the Clubhouse when the day was finally done, he was weary and tired and absolutely ready to get to his dorm room and try to imprint the feel of Ripley's skin into his mind for the fucking shit ahead of them. They'd settled everything with Westin and his boys . . . done their dance with Zobelle and just when everything had seemed like it was going to go fine Jax had gotten a call and bailed. And within a few minutes Clay called them all off, saying that Cameron had killed Sack and kidnapped Abel.

Tig wasn't too big to admit that his first though had been of Ripley's safety-since she was known to go anywhere with Gemma and Tara if they asked-and he had breathed a sigh of relief at her answering her work phone in an irritated manner as she yelled at her brother. He knew she would be taking care of Sack's remains before they were released to the funeral home and it suddenly bothered him that his Old Lady would have touched three people she truly cared about in as many days . . . all because the shit had hit the fucking fan.

He wasn't so out of it with all of this shit to not know that she was hurting . . . bad. And not just because of LuAnne. London's death was eating her alive. And he just hoped that she would still be okay after he and Clay told her what they had to . . . and that the girl didn't fucking haunt him for not living up to the promise he'd made her. He'd sworn to London that he'd take care of Ripley . . . and so far all he'd done as her Old Man was fuck things up even more.

He looked over the heads of the gathered SAMCRO affiliates, trying to spot his girl and wasn't too shocked to see her and her brother's heads at the bar. But he was intrigued to see her behind it, and waving a bottle of Black Label Jack over a line of shot glasses. Chibs moved around him, grabbing one and downing it as Bobby moved to do the same. Clay stopped at the bar, motioning her around and pointing a random Croweater to take her place before grabbing Ripley by her shoulders and steering her towards the Church. Tig sighed, following closely and barely making it through the doors before Clay shut them on him. Clay's mood had soured considerably after the reports came in about Gemma . . . but they knew she wasn't caught yet. Unser was doing everything in his power to keep that from happening . . . And now they just had to tell his Old Lady that not only had she already lost two people dearest to her-one he was sure would've probably kept her from ever being his if she'd asked- but that Sack was dead . . . Abel was gone and Gemma had been framed for a murder she didn't commit.

Ripley looked between them, brow raised before settling her gaze on Clay. Tig knew by that look that she'd guessed something was up . . . and he knew that they were in for it after she found out what. Yeah, she was definitely going to fall to fucking pieces . . . if she didn't go out and put Stahl's ass in a shallow grave out towards Lodi.

"What's going on? Where are Gemma and Tara? Neither are answering there phones and Sack isn't back yet . . . And they've been gone way to fucking long . . .speaking of which where the fuck is Jax?"

Clay took a deep breath as he sank into his chair, motioning for her to take Jax's.

"Sack's dead, Ripley. And Tara and Jax are at the house, talking to the police and the Feds. Cameron took Abel and stabbed Sack. Because-far as we can piece it together from what Unser was told by Gem-the bitch Stahl decided to pin a murder on Gemma that she didn't commit. Gem's on the lamb . . . and as soon as we find out where she's landing . . ."

He stopped, running a massive hand over his face before letting his head fall back onto the head rest and closing his eyes. Tig sighed, reaching out and taking her hand as Clay looked back to her, eyes tired and remorseful.

"Tig is going to keep her safe. She can't come back to Charming until this shit is settled . . . and the ATF is going to be bearing down us hard until they find her or a link to the Irish. So here's my warning: Stahl will come to talk to you and you will have to be smart about it. Hit her and she'll throw you in lock up. As soon as you know anything about Sack you let me know . . . The Club is going to be handling his wake and funeral . . ."

Ripley sat there stunned, looking between Tig and Clay in amazement. Could this fucking month get any worse? She blinked, turning her full attention to Tig. Who was actually squirming in his seat from the look she was leveling on him.

"So I guess this means that you won't be here for London's funeral . . . or for LuAnne's . . . right?"

Tig nodded, looking to Clay for a split second before turning his full attention to her. He rubbed her hand with one of his while his other reached out and cupped her cheek. But for the life of her she couldn't convince herself to lean into the comfort he was offering. She knew how this worked . . . how the MC was . . . but she was far too weary to act like it was okay. So she started to shut down instead . . .

Tig however wasn't having it. His other hand left hers and came up to cup her other cheek, forcing her to look at him as Clay stood to leave. He walked by, stopping long enough to clap Tig's shoulder and dip to kiss the crown of Ripley's head before going out into the relatively quiet Cluhouse . . . and closing the doors firmly behind him. As soon as he was gone, Tig started talking.

"I'm sorry baby. I am so fucking sorry. I swear if there was anyway i would be there for this and you know it . . . Please tell me that you know it . . ."

She nodded, looking down at the table and suddenly she felt like the world was caving in around her. Everything she kept trying to keep under wraps wasn't cooperating anymore. the pain and anguish and anger of all of this shit wasn't going to go quietly into the little compartments in her head . . . It needed to come out and she wasn't going to be able to stop this if she didn't get out of here quick. . .

She went to stand and he stopped her, pulling her against him and forcing her face up to his. His eyes searched hers for a few seconds before they hardened into somethigns he hadn't seen directed at her since the first night he'd stayed in her bed. But his words cut through her and she knew that he was lashing out because she was shutting him out.

"GOD DAMNIT RIPLEY! Do NOT shut me OUT! You're MY Old Lady and i will not allow it!"

And suddenly that was all she needed to not care about what happened here. How dare he? he accused her of shutting him out?

"What the hell am i supposed to do Alex? Huh? I mean its not like anyone else has given any of this a second thought. LuAnne's body is still in the fucking morgue for Christ's sake! If I hadn't claimed it and started making arrangements then nobody else would have. Everyone else is so caught up in Zobelle and Stahl . . . and I am the only fucking one who was left holding the rest. I'm the only one left to claim London! Do you know what that's like? To have to know that you're the only person to take care of them? i'm burrying them days apart from each other . . . And now this? How do i deal with this? Please let me fucking now! Because so far all it seems like you've wanted to do was try and fuck everything away. And while I'm up for trying that Tig I can't just let this drop . . . Its waiting on me when the moment fades and you climb out of bed or the backseat of the fucking car and go off to do God knows what . . ."

"I don't fucking know . . . but you're my Old Lady. Not some fucking whore off the damn street. Not a Croweater. Talk to me. I don't know how baby but let me try to help you fix some of this shit before it eats you alive. I can see the fucking demons eating at you already . . . they have been since you saw London on that table. Just talk to me! God damn it . . . You don't have to be so fucking strong right now. Let go of it, baby. I swear I'll catch you . . . But I can't put you back together if you break. I don't want you to break like me, Baby."

She shook her head, closing her eyes and letting the tears fall as he pulled her into him and just let her cry while he held her, petting her hair. She couldn't help it, couldn't fight it anymore.

* * *

Ripley clung to him as he held her, rubbing her back and absorbing as much of her hurt and pain as he could while he could. Tig hated that he wasn't going to be here . . . whens he needed him but he couldn't abandon the Club. And he knew she understood that . . . Just like he understood that she needed to let this out. To finally start to deal with all of this shit she'd been carrying and trying to balance along with the normal stuff. Her voice brought him back to the present and out of his remorse . . . and sent another dagger right throught the spot in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. He guessed the pain meant he had something there . . . but it hurt too bad to actually look at it. God if he ever got the chance Stahl was dead fucking cunt for this shit.

"I didn't tell her Alex . . . i didn't tell either of them how much I loved them. I . . . Oh God Tig . . . I'm burrying my Aunt and my lover . . . two days apart and i'll be doing it all alone . . ."

He shook his head, pulling her tear streaked face up to his and pressed their foreheads together.

"No . . . now you listen to me. You will not be alone you got that? Clay's already said the whole fucking Charter is going to be with you for both . . . you won't be alone baby. I swear it. I swear on my girls-our girls-that you won't be alone . . ."

She shook, laughing bitterly and he decided he hated the sound. His girl should never sound like that . . . ever.

"Oh great. I get every Son I don't want and can't keep the one I do. What a wonderful gesture . . . . "

Tig sighed, pulling her back against him as he shook his head. He could understand the sentiment there . . .

"I know baby. I know. Look . . . Let's go home, okay? And before i head out tomorrow we'll make sure that LuAnne and London get to Powle's . . . alright? I won't leave until you've got them there . . . i know clay will give us that."

She looked up at him and he knew that in that moment Clay had better never doubt either of their love for this Club . . . She was so hurt by all of this, so torn up and still she was working to accept it and move on for the fucking Club. For him and his Brothers. They had better all appreciate what he was doing for them. What she was doing.

"Promise?"

He nodded, dipping to kiss her before he held her to him again. God all he wanted-for once-was to be what he was supposed to be. To be there and solid for her instead of for the Club . . . but they both knew that he wasn't wired that way . . . and she was suffering for it. Because the one person who could've helped keep her happy and balanced was the one she would be putting in the ground.

"I swear, Baby. I swear on my patch. I love you . . . and I am so fucking sorry that you're hurting. That London and LuAnne are gone and Gemma isn't here to help you. But I swear right here and right now, on the ink over your heart that as soon as I'm back I will bring you the sons of bitches responsible. And their fucking skulls are going to be your new bookends . . . your hear me, Little Girl?"

She nodded, tucking herself into him. And, despite the dread and pain, she knew he was serious. Tig was a monster . . . just like her . . . and she belonged to him. So London-who had belonged to her and had shared her with him-had been his by proxy. And no matter whatever else he did . . . he took care of what was his . . . And he would avenge the wrong that had been committed against them . . . if _**she**_ didn't first.


	29. Chapter 29

_I swear it seems like everytime I update this story its in massive chapter uploads. This was such a hard chapter to write-hence the reason it so short- and it actually made my poor unsuspecting sister cry her eyes out when she went to proof read it for me . . . so here's the warning for that. Its sad . . . but i don't think too sad. Thanks for all of the reviews, alerts and favs! The support really does mean the world to me . . . Okay. enough blathering. On with the show . . ._

* * *

Tig stood just inside the doors of Powle Mortuary's preparation room and watched Ripley examine LuAnne's body one last time before nodding to the attendant. He'd sworn he'd be here for this and he was keeping his word. And he was glad he had . . . The staff here had agreed that they could cover the most substantial damage and bruising so there could be a proper wake and burial . . . with an open casket. He sighed, watching his girl carefully as her eyes followed the curtain the man pulled around LuAnne effectively shielding her from sight before nodding his head towards the other table. Now all they had to do was deal with London . . .

Ripley had already told him she knew they wouldn't be able to do anything for London and the extent of her injuries would make embalming her remains a huge hassle . . . not to mention worthless. So she was going to cremate her . . . something they had apparently discussed over the course of their relationship. This final viewing was more for Ripley to have the opportunity to say her final goodbyes than to actually sign off on anything . . . The cremation would happen tomorrow morning prior to LuAnne's funeral and the ashes would be released to her the next day . . . Opie and Piney were going to come with her to collect them and he was thankful. The Winstons would be able to help her and comfort her without her feeling the need to close off like she had with the rest of them . . . even him.

He sighed, running a hand over his face as Ripley and the attendant discussed the process for tomorrow. He'd already cleared it with Clay that as soon as _**all **_of this shit was settled he and Ripley were taking off for the coast and staying a few days . . . it's where she wanted to scatter London's ashes . . . Both women had loved the sea and Ripley had confided in him early this morning while he held her as she sobbed that she could at least do that for her. Put her somewhere she loved and pray that the serenity of everything could grant her the peace her death had lacked. Tig had just about broken down and called the Club, refusing to go at the sheer despair in her voice as she spoke . . . but she'd insisted. The sooner he left the sooner he could come back. And she didn't trust anyone else to watch over Gemma.

Her hitch in breath had him moving to hold her as the attendant slowly pulled the curtain back and folded down the sheet covering what was left of the sweet and confident girl that kept the other pieces of Ripley's heart. As she turned and burrowed her nose into his cut he was overcome with the sudden desire to grab her up and drag her away from this. All of it . . . This wasn't London . . . nothing on this table even resembled his Old Lady's lover- the only thing to him at least- that identified her was the tattoo over her heart. The Japanese kanji for chaos was stenciled into the pale ashen and torn flesh, the dark lines still surprisingly clean and stark in the middle of the large slashes that covered the torso.

He closed his own eyes, pulling Ripley just a bit tighter as he felt her shoulders shake with the force of her tears. Had it really just been a few days ago that he'd been with both of them? Watching Ripley trace that very symbol with her tongue and nip at the flesh around it as London had leaned back and into his chest, his arms under her and over her shoulders to steady her as her head lulled back . . . He could still hear her throaty little moans as Ripley chuckled against her flesh, leaning up to kiss her before moving from her lips to his. He'd savored the kiss, tasting both of their lips on hers as she showed him the same amount of attention she did the guest in their bed . . .

He shook himself, petting Ripley's curls as her sobs started to weaken and she turned to look at the girl-her girl-with teary red rimmed eyes. He nodded to the attendant and the man took the hint, slipping out of the room to give them the privacy Ripley so desperately needed. As soon as the door shut quietly, Ripley slipped from his arms and brushed London's bangs from her face, tracing the torn and battered flesh gently and lovingly as new tears overran her lashes and made wet trails down her cheeks. She drew in a shuddering breath before dipping and very carefully placed a chaste kiss on London's lips, mindful of the angry and brutal slash that marred her own perfect and pouty smile.

Tig watched her move and press her forehead to her girl's and felt his black heart break as her tears fell and traveled down London's face, making it seem like the dead girl was crying right beside Ripley at their final farewell. He was so busy trying not to choke up that he almost didn't see her lips moving as she kept her eyes closed, tears spilling faster as she cupped London's face. And when her words registered he swore to God that he would hunt down the bastard that did this and make them pay.

"I am so sorry, baby . . . I am so, so sorry . . . I should've made you stay . . . I should've told you, God I should've told you I love you . . . I love you . . . and now you're gone baby and you're never gonna know . . . you're never gonna know what you mean to me. What you'll always mean to-"

Tig stepped forward, pulling her back to him as she started sobbing again. He kissed her forehead as he rubbed her arms, holding her to him as he spoke. He didn't know where the words came from but he was glad they flowed freely . . . He hated seeing her like this-hated seeing London like this- but all he could do at the moment was hold her and try to comfort her. Even if he didn't really believe all of what he said . . . he just knew it was helping her . . .

"She knew Baby Girl. She knew . . . she still does and always will . . . C'mon sweetheart. I know you don't want to but . . . you need to tell her goodbye . . . You need to do that for both of you . . ."

* * *

Ripley felt the tears fall even harder as she nodded, leaning into the comfort he was offering. She knew he was right . . . but God this hurt . . . She stepped away from him, leaning down and kissing London for the last time ever. Her tired and hurting eyes raked over her face, trying to take in every detail and replace the carnage with the beauty that was once there. She pressed her forehead against hers again, whispering her final words to one of the most important people in her world. Tig was her soul-the one person who would always be able to steady her as they tried to balance one another-but London had been her heart for a long time . . . And even after they'd parted ways to go on to other things she'd kept a good piece of it. A piece she was taking to the grave with her . . . She made her a promise, then and there . . . and knew she would die to fulfill it.

"I swear on my father's grave I will destroy whoever did this to you; I will make them pay . . . They'll lose twice as much for every bit of you they desecrated and defiled, every cut that pierced your skin . . . I swear. I love you London Aikido . . . bye Baby. I miss you . . ."

Tig watched her pull away and saw the coldness there in those pretty blue green eyes . . . right before she darted towards the door and down the hall. Probably going to be sick. Again. He looked after for a moment turning back and looking over what was left in this world of London Aikido. He moved, reaching down and cupping her face, brushing the abused cold skin with the rough pad of his thumb. What a fucking waste . . . He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her brow, smoothing her bangs as he spoke.

"I'm working on keeping my promise to you girl. But I'm making you a new one . . . one just between us. I will make sure you get what you deserve . . . and I won't let our girl fall . . . Be at peace, Baby Girl . . .One of you deserves to be . . ."

And with that, he turned to collect his probably sobbing retching Old Lady to take her to the Club. Clay and Unser wanted to see her and as much as he hated it he had to get on the road to Oregon. Because the sooner he got down to business the sooner he could come back home to his girl . . . He just prayed she would be okay while he was gone.

* * *

_Like i said before . . . short and sad . . . but don't worry there's more . . ._


	30. Chapter 30

_Okay and this one is back towards my normal chapter length . . . and i warn you-like i do everytime i update it seems-that this story carries the M rating . . . Oh and these few chapters are dealing with what happens between the second season finale and the first two episodes of season three. i know somethings may seem out of whack or odd but i'm working with the storyline to keep things in order with how i need them to be. If you see something that's a bit out of place i swear it is probably for a reason. Either my absentmindedness or the direction of the story . . .  
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* * *

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Tig's mouth devoured hers as they stood in the Clubhouse apartment, his hands grasping and grabbing as he held her nude form flush against his. Ripley sighed, leaning into the welcomed contact as she felt him harden again, the evidence pressing against her navel as he started moving her back towards the bed. They'd arrived at the Club to find that Clay had been called away to talk with Tara, Bobby and Opie going with him, because she was concerned about Jax. The VP had been near catatonic since the abduction of his son and the slaying of the Prospect a few days prior . . . and she knew that Clay and the Sons would eventually have to do something drastic to bring him back to the world of the living . . . She just prayed they could do so without kicking his door in and beating him into an almost blind rage . . .

Tig, ever the opportunistic lover had taken their absence in stride and drug her to the apartment while they waited. He'd barely kicked the door closed before he turned and pounced; stripping them both and depositing her on the bed in under a minute flat . . . and had been buried as deep in her as he could be in fewer than two. Now, two vigorous rounds of love making-and one fast, hard round of pure unadulterated fucking-later she knew that he was as tired, sweaty and lethargic as she was . . . but Tig was refusing to let their unexpected interlude slip by and go to waste . . .

She kissed him, clinging to him a bit tighter as his hands roamed back up her sides and to her chest, his ringed fingers tracing his mark over her heart almost reverently before going back to grabbing any piece of her flesh they could take purchase of. She knew that he was upset that he leaving and that what was happening between them here was just as much to try and slate his sexual appetites for as much of the duration of his Clay-imposed 'exile'-her Old Man really could be such a paranoid drama queen when he wanted to be-as it was to connect with her and comfort. Hell, if she was honest with herself it was probably more the former than the latter . . . but the fact that the latter was there at all spoke volumes about just what stood between them. And as long as he kept acknowledging that and being there as much as his emotionally retarded and constipated ass could be then it was fine with her . . .

All she knew is that what he was getting ready to head out for didn't really constitute as a run . . . and if she found out he fucked anything other than his hand-especially given what had almost occurred between him and Gemma earlier- he would wind up on the slab right next to Sack and the son of a bitch that killed London. Or-if she really wanted to kill him-she would make sure she wasn't alone in her bed when Tig came home. She knew that was probably not the SAMCRO Old Lady thing to think but her head was in too many places and too fucked over the events of the past month to deal with that particular issue any other way . . . besides their agreement was set in stone. Had been long before he ever inked her . . . And she'd forgiven his drunk roll in the hay with the Croweater and the incident with Gem . . . If she let anything else slide then he would run all over her. It was just the way Tig was. He respected who and what made him respect them . . . and the only way to do that was to keep his ass in line (like Clay and Gemma), wear the Reaper patch and honor it (any of his SAMCRO brethren) or to prove that you were as equally fucked and willing to toe the line as he was . . .

He pushed her back into the mattress and descended on her with a flourish of wet, biting kisses as he thrust into her with one hard, fluid motion. His hips started moving in a torturously slow pace as his lips moved from her own down her jaw and neck, causing her to gasp and pull him tighter as they traveled down to lavish his Crow on her chest with his own special brand of attention. His blunt teeth scraped over the word right below the tattoo and she felt every coherent thought leave her. Runs, protection, abandonment and loss were all damned to the darkest corners of her mind as he chuckled and whispered to her, hips still moving slowly as they held one another. This was by far the sweetest and gentlest love making they'd ever partaken of . . . and where it lacked the usual fervor and craziness it more than made up for it in intimacy. Something she knew her lover did not dabble in often . . .

"I can't _wait _to get back to you, Baby . . . _**Nothing**_ else is this good, feels this right. You're **_mine_** . . . just like this says . . . I **love** this little pussy . . . **_almost_** as much as I love **_you_** . . . My little Old Lady . . ._**Mine**_."

* * *

Clay sighed, watching as Ripley stood on her tiptoes to kiss Tig goodbye before she took his helmet from his seat and gingerly placed it over his curls. He knew the others were just as awed by the sheer tenderness between the two of them since they'd emerged from the apartment . . . but his biggest shock was here and now, watching them together. Ripley's hair was down and wild, an almost living mass of golden and platinum curls mixing together to cascade down her back in an untamable blonde mane. Her face, clean of her usual makeup was still flushed and the light dusting of freckles were more visible than usual . . . just like her lips were a bit fuller. Because he refused to acknowledge that they were actually kiss swollen. Tig was his closest brother-the main reason he was going to protect the most precious thing in the world to him-but he'd helped raise Ripley . . . And he did not want to know about what went on behind their closed doors. He already knew far too much about Tig's past exploits as it was.

Ripley was dressed in a simple dusky rose shirt fit her like a second skin with a modest boat neck, showing off far more than he would normally be comfortable with without revealing anything other than the top of her Crow. She was completely covered and he still wanted to tell her put damn clothes on. The cropped brown leather jacket was . . . odd, falling just to the dip of her waist with the mandarin styled collar popped, various patches and stitching showing off different logos . . . . But the one that caught his eye-and Tig's he was sure- was obviously a replica of the Sgt at Arms patch in cream and chocolate stitching with an umber crow beside the words. Her distressed jeans were dark and practically painted on; ending in a small flare that almost covered the tops of her green alligator leather heels, the pointed tips of the stilettos barely visible. A pair of amber lensed aviator glasses perched in her curls completed the look . . . as well as the long and dainty golden necklace adorned with the tiny rhinestone-encrusted motorcycle, compass, a pink quartz rose and an antique revolver charm.

Tig, decked in a pair of black pants, an all-black western style rodeo shirt and his trademark boots held her to him with one arm around her waist while his hand cupped her cheek. Clay loved Tig to death-trusted him with everything-but in this moment it was so easy to see the differences in his right hand and his goddaughter . . . Tig's dark hair was spilling beneath the helmet and even with the blue arm band with the smaller black stripe-to stand for SAMCRO and memorial for Sack- in place of the Cut folded neatly and stowed beneath his seat he still looked every bit as fierce and dangerous as Ripley did fragile and dainty.

How in the hell were these two able to weather every obstacle before them and still look like they shouldn't be able to stand one another?

Clay sighed and shook his head, once again having to remind himself that though they had hated each other at first he knew that their personalities would eventually click one way or another . . . . and that **they** were **_happy_** with the outcome. They worked well together and could balance the other's issues-for the most part-and since he'd taken up with Ripley Tig had actually been more like himself than he had been in almost six months. Having her around had helped ground him for the aftermath that had followed in the wake of Donna's death and Jax's little uprising even before they'd given in to the immense chemistry between them. She'd helped keep him together and given him someone to focus on other than the drama-be it for aggravating or fucking. God he did not want to think about that-and hadn't treated him like a pariah when she and Opie had finally talked. She'd even helped pull Piney back and into the fold by reminding him that with a VP acting crazy and all of the shit going on it wasn't an uncommon thing for a hit like that to be issued. The secrecy had been to_ protect him_ from the perceived truth that his son had gone Rat . . . and the hit had been to _protect all of them_.

The Old Man hadn't liked hearing it but she'd reminded him that her Pops would've done the same thing . . . and so would he if it had been Jax that Stahl had tried to fuck around with . . . Bobby's sharp intake of breath brought his eyes up to the Secretary of the Sons. He was looking over in the couple's direction in seeming shock . . . and when his eyes turned back to them he saw why. Tig had dipped to kiss Ripley and was holding her to him as her arms wound around his shoulders. He pulled back, pressing his forehead to hers and running his knuckles over her cheek lovingly as he whispered to her. She nodded, eyes closing as he spoke . . . and when her left hand came up to trace the healing cut on his cheek Clay felt his heart stop. He'd noticed during their altercation with Westin that Tig had replaced his favorite gold Reaper ring for another bulkier one with a crow engraved into the metal . . . But he had no clue that the man had given it to Ripley to wear. The golden Reaper was on her middle finger, so huge against her smaller hand that he wondered of she'd had it sized so she could wear it.

Tig-to his amazement- got her hand and kissed his ring before stepping back from her completely and mounting his bike. The Sgt at Arms nodded to him before sliding his sunglasses into place and shrugging into the leather jacket Ripley handed him. With one final dip of his chin to his new Old Lady, the dark biker brought his Dyna roaring to life and sped out of the Teller-Morrow lot like a bat out of hell. Bobby just shook his head as Piney chuckled, turning to look at them as they all watched Tig disappear around the corner and into the horizon.

"I never guessed after all of that that he'd shoot outta here like that . . . Boy acts like the Devil himself was on his heels . . ."

Bobby however just shook his head again, clapping the older man on the shoulder as they turned to go into the Clubhouse.

"I doubt it was getting away that made him do it, Piney. I think he knew he had to get gone quick or he wasn't going to get outta here period. And not a one of us could blame him either . . ."

Piney nodded, laughing as they disappeared into the Club . . . Clay sighed, walking over to Ripley. Who was still looking at the front gate like her world had just gone through it. Because he knew what was left of it probably had. He hated having to do this but she would be protected here-and useful to their new cause-and Tig would look after Gemma like she was his own. He needed them both for this to work . . . But when she turned back to him with big, tear laden eyes he felt like the world's biggest jackass. He'd just sent her Old Man off into the wild blue yonder to face God knows what while she had to stay here and bury three people . . . It really fucking sucked to be King some days . . .

He reached out, pulling her into his Cut and rubbed her shoulder and arm, dropping a kiss on the crown of her curls as she buried her nose in his chest. He sighed.

"C'mon Baby Girl. Don't worry your pretty little head. Tigger's the hardest rotten bastard I know . . . He'll be fine and keep Gemma safe until they can come home. Okay?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes before leaning back into him as he started to usher her towards the Clubhouse.

"C'mon. Let's go to Church . . . Unser's here and we've got to talk with you about some things . . . Mainly on how you cannot hit the ATF cunt when you finally cross paths with her . . ."

She huffed, crossing her arms and looking up at him with the same begging expression that had gotten her her way with him and the older generation of the Sons when she was younger. And to see it with watery eyes made him want to give in . . . until he heard her words and had to choke back his laughter.

"Oh c'mon Uncle Clay. Can't I just hit her once? I swear I won't try to kill her . . . much."

Clay held out for about five seconds before almost falling over in gut wrenching laughter as she smirked up at him darkly. Stahl had no clue what she was in for if she decided to cross Tig's girl . . . Because the beating Otto had dealt out would pale in comparison to what Ripley would do if she ever pushed her too far. She was just as ruthless as Ed had been . . . and as crazy as Tig when defending what was hers . . . so whatever happened as a result would be epic and bloody. The glint in her eyes promised him as much. Finally he composed himself and shook his head, holding the door for her to go before him.

"No way or shape, Babe. My wife and your Old Man would have my head on a pike if I let you run wild . . . even if they would love the results."


	31. Chapter 31

_Okay i know Hale was only in the first episode of season three so i'm getting my use of him before i have to off him . . . and making the interaction with Stahl and Ripley was . . . nerve wracking. I toyed with a few ideas and if anyone wants to see their particular relationship go a different way, then drop me a message and i'll consider it. But for now, they are not going to go all gaga over each other just because they both bat for both teams. I don't think that would happen-we all have a type and I know that Stahl would definitely not be mine with how fucking manipulative she is- and while Stahl may see a chance for manipualtion that's about it . . . but i do hope everyone enjoys the 7,339 +words that made my life hell for two days. _

* * *

Ripley sighed, tugging the fitted black dress straight as she looked herself over in the mirror one last time. LuAnne's wake had gone off without a hitch, all of the Sons present in Charming had attended-save Jax who was still holed up in Abel's nursery, but she could understand that sentiment all too well- and she was trying her damnedest to make sure the funeral this morning went as well. The black dress was simple and form fitting without being overly sexy or revealing, the slightly scooped neck trimmed in the same tiny black eyelet lace as the hem of the long sleeves-which came down to her knuckles- and the skirt. The hem rested right above her knees and the shiny black alligator leather heels looked good enough with it that she was okay with wearing them instead of the black satin ones she'd originally considered. She'd donned the golden necklace with the charms and the long blue black feather- that Tig had started calling her SAMCRO omen since she always seemed to wear it to some form of SAMCRO crisis- and the ring he'd given her . . . Her hair and makeup were done . . . so now all she had to do was wait on Chibs to pick her up.

She sighed, turning from the mirror to go back downstairs to wait . . . Because as soon as the service was over she had to go back to the funeral home and collect London's ashes-which were going to go into the safe in her closet until she could scatter them, because God knows she was just klutzy enough to shatter the urn and push herself right into the nervous breakdown she was fighting off- and go straight to work. Some Federal representative was coming to sign over Sack's body to the morgue and into her staff's care . . . and despite Clay's assurance that someone else could do it she had been adamant about taking care of the fallen Son. She'd truly liked the Prospect and she felt she owed him that much . . . He'd been a good kid and would've made a great Son . . .

She stopped at the foot of the steps and on whim started down the hall to the twins' room, pushing the door open. Tig had called them the night before last and told them that he was going to be out of town on business until further notice . . . and the sheer disappointment in their voices at not being able to see him soon had been enough for her to offer to let them stay with her during their next visit even if he wasn't back. She was sure that they could take the drive to Oregon to see him and Gemma if they absolutely had to . . . and her Old Man loved very few things the way he did those girls. She stepped in, reaching out to smooth out the comforter that Tig had sat on during his phone call and rearrange the pillows. She turned, seeing the picture of the four of them smiling at Gemma's-Tig still sporting a few of the cuts from his wreck- tucked beneath the frame of the mirror and had to smile. Those girls were his world outside of her and the MC . . . and he had been so happy to hear her offer to keep them-to give them a break from the Harpy and let them have some fun-that she knew she'd made the right choice . . . Besides, with them here in a few weeks maybe she wouldn't have enough time to think about everything else. They did do a pretty good job of keeping her busy . . .

She turned to go back into the living room and almost shit her heart. There, standing in the doorway of the bedroom was Deputy Chief David Hale. He smiled at her sheepishly before taking a tentative step into the room and looking around it. He finally winced, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he began to speak.

"Sorry . . . I knocked but no one answered . . . and the front door was unlocked. Which is not something you need to do with all of this craziness going on Ripley . . . Nice house by the way. This where Trager's girls stay when they're in town?"

She nodded, still shocked that he was in her home before shaking herself. She crossed her arms, brow raised as she looked him over. He wasn't in his uniform but rather a very nice black suit and white dress shirt with a black silk tie . . . _What was he doing here . . ._

He seemed to pick up on her thoughts ad sighed, dropping his hands and putting them firmly in his slack pockets, looking down at his feet for a few seconds before meeting her eyes and nodding his head towards the front of the house.

"Look . . . I know you don't owe me anything but I was hoping we could talk, try and clear the air between us. I've kind of realized that I might've made a mistake about you . . . And I want the chance to make that right. But right now I really want to get out of this bedroom because I doubt your boyfriend would appreciate coming in to find us in here . . . Alone. I like my head where it is . . . I'm actually fairly attached to it . . ."

Ripley blinked before laughing, nodding as she went to step around him. He stepped back, keeping a respectful distance between them and let her go into the hall first before following her back into the living room. She turned, shaking her head as she smiled.

"We can talk, David. You want some coffee? I've got a while before the Sons come and kidnap me for LuAnne's service . . ."

* * *

Hale nodded, following Ripley into her kitchen and sitting in the odd arm chair at the small table while she readied the coffee pot. He had to admit that she was pretty . . . prettier than Stahl or even Tara. But the way she moved and carried herself from the first day Unser had introduced her told him that she wasn't his type even before she'd taken up with the craziest Son. Where June moved with the assurance and confidence of having the Federal Government eating out of her palm-men and women alike-and Tara had this quiet calm about her that came with her medical knowledge and experience in and out of the Trauma and Operating rooms . . . every move, every small action of the blonde little pathologist moving around her pristine kitchen practically oozed grace and poise. And enough of something else-something a bit darker- that he kept his eyes on her even though he knew he shouldn't. June wasn't nearly as good at being deceptive and manipulative as she thought- she never would be at the rate she was going-but Ripley was a master at making people believe she was weaker and more fragile than she was without really trying. Out in the field was the only time any of the hardness he'd seen in her came out . . . the rest of the time she was all quiet words and small smiles, keeping professional without being overly friendly and personable. And she had yet to do anything to make him doubt her ability or loyalty to her field or their office.

_Which was the primary reason he was here._

Ripley was this force unto herself, an unmovable and almost uncontrollable entity wrapped up in smooth skin and blonde curls and designer clothes . . . with this deadly edge and frightening intelligence. He knew first-hand how smart she was, seeing her notes on the Lodi Slasher case, and how good she was at putting pieces together other people wouldn't connect or overlook all together . . . And he'd realized, after talking with Unser, that if he was going to be Chief than he would need her to be on his side. And with her on his side then SAMCRO would be-to whatever degree- as well . . . and if they were going to keep Charming safe then he needed that.

She looked back at him over her shoulder, brow raised as she poured two large cups of coffee before replacing the pot in its home and crossing to take the seat across from him, sliding the heavy white mug to him. He nodded, accepting the cup and taking a long drink, mindful of the hot liquid.

"So . . . what's on your mind, Deputy?"

He smirked, sitting the cup down and noticing the large leather bound volume of the _Paradise Lost_ for the first time. He raised a brow, brushing his fingertips over the gold letters recessed into black cover before looking up at her.

"Never pictured you as a Milton fan . . . but it makes since in a way. What book are you on now?"

She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee before answering him . . . and shocking him into silence as she laughed at him quietly.

"Actually, Tig was reading it the other morning while I was at work. I think he just got past the part where Lucifer is cast out of Heaven for rebelling . . . What? Shock you that my Outlaw reads, Davie? He can do advanced calculus and trigonometry, rebuild a combustion engine and even mow the grass . . . "

Hale blinked as the information settled into his brain and he smirked, raising his mug to her. She hadn't called him Davie since they were freaking kids . . . and while it should've been embarrassing to hear that name come from her it set him at ease. Enough to actually pick back with her.

"Wow . . . He house broken too?"

She smirked at him, shrugging before finally succumbing to her laughter as she shook her head. He smiled, deciding he liked the sound of her laughter and seeing her relaxed. Maybe this had been a good idea after all.

"Not _yet_ but hey nobody's perfect . . . There's more to him-to all of them- than the Club, Davie. I know with the Cut and the rap sheets it's a bit harder to see but they're good men. They just don't always do everything the way everyone else thinks they should . . ."

He nodded, knowing truer words were never spoken.

"I'm beginning to see that . . . And that's part of the reason I'm here today, Ripley. I know that Clay would never believe me . . . not with what June did and Zobelle . . . But I get that the Sons want to protect Charming. And the people that make it up . . . I just have to tell you . . . when I take the office I won't-can't- be in the Sons' pocket the way Unser is. I have to be the one controlling the force . . . but that doesn't mean I'm** blind **to the good they do. And while I just can't turn a blind eye to it I will try to remember it, no matter who's talking in my ear. My office isn't for sale anymore. To**_ anyone_** . . ."

Ripley nodded, obviously impressed by what he'd said before taking another drink of her coffee. She was quiet for a few minutes before she looked out towards the gardens behind her house, causing the mid-morning sun to bathe her in soft warm light. She looked more like she belonged in his world-or even the one Tara had run from-than the one of the Outlaw MC. But he knew that looks were deceiving. Especially with her . . . He was so busy looking at her he almost didn't catch what she said when she spoke.

"I'm glad to hear that David . . . I just hope that you remember it . . . So, where are you all dressed up to go? I didn't know that future Chiefs of Police had to wear suits."

He felt himself blush and was thankful she didn't call him on it. This was going to be hard enough as it was.

"I uh, I'm going to LuAnne's funeral this morning . . . Unser just got back in town from his family emergency with Della this morning to run right to Lodi to speak with Trammel . . . and I kind of feel like I owe it to her. I found her and had to ID her. I want to make sure she's put to rest a lot more peacefully than she died . . . No one deserves that . . . except maybe the bastards that did it to her . . . and on that note . . . I wanted to apologize for being an ass about that. I should've _never_ threatened your job . . . If it'd been me that had known her personally I would've made the call as early as I could . . ."

* * *

Ripley blinked, stunned at the honesty and sincerity in Hale's voice and face as he looked across the table at her. Maybe this whole shake-up with Zobelle had served a greater purpose in the end if it could get him to see past the blind hate for the MC that had passed to him and his brother from their sanctimonious and self-righteous prick of a father . . . Hopefully, this bridge they were building could stand the weight of that bitterness until he let go of it completely. She knew he would never be a SAMCRO supporter and that he and the Club would probably continue to butt heads . . . but if he wasn't actively seeking them out than they might be able to find some way to work all of this to benefit all of them. She nodded, reaching out and patting his hand.

"Its fine, Hale. I knew what people would think when I took the job. I was prepared for the backlash and I've been lucky not to get caught in it so far . . . But I appreciate the effort and accept the apology. It takes a pretty big man to admit he's wrong . . . and even bigger one to say it out loud . . ."

The blush on his cheeks intensified and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling at him. David Hale always had been a bit shy . . . and more than a little backwards. But of all of the Hale clan he had always been the one she tolerated best. His oldest brother, Jacob Jr was just as big a prick as their father . . . and ten times more rotten. He cleared his throat, trying to force ahead and she let him, knowing she'd already embarrassed him enough.

"Yeah, well . . . I also wanted to let you know that Ju-Stahl is going to be the one coming in with you today . . . Be careful with her, Ripley. She's got a major agenda against SAMCRO. She thinks that nailing them will lead to the Irish . . . and she doesn't care who gets cut down on her way up the ladder . . ."

Ripley looked him over, suddenly realizing what he was saying . . . and what he wasn't . . . he knew who and what Stahl was. And what she'd caused with her interfering and manipulations. And he was as powerless to stop her as Clay and Unser were. Damn this bitch was grating on her nerves and they'd never even met yet . . .

"You sound like you know that from personal experience. Anymore words of wisdom for me then?"

He grinned, shrugging as he drained the rest of his coffee and got up to put the cup in the sink, filling it with warm water. She smirked, appreciating the small act of good manners. Because while she loved the Sons, most of them wouldn't know how to put a dish in the sink if she led them there and showed them . . . and gave them detailed instructions with pictures. Build motorcycles and have shootouts with Mayans and Nords, sure. Pick up after themselves . . . not so much.

"Yeah . . . she-uh started going on one night that while she likes guys she will occasionally hop the fence into your territory . . . Actually it was almost like she was gloating about it. Showed me the pictures of her exes on her laptop. She likes 'em blonde and pretty. Just be careful with her . . . She isn't above using sex to get what she wants . . ."

Ripley nodded, tucking that little tidbit away for safe keeping as she stood to do the same. Clay and Unser hadn't been able to tell her that . . . and they would shit their hearts when she told them who this new little nugget came from. She was just going to be sure to tell them together . . . with Juice on stand-by with a video camera so she would have proof for Tig. She felt a pang in her heart and suddenly wished that Tig was here with her, chatting idly while they got ready instead of Hale . . . but she shook herself, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. No need in being any more depressed . . .

"I'll keep it mind, David . . ."

A knock at the door caught both of their attention and Hale started to pale and shift his weight from foot to foot nervously as he looked to her. She just shook her head, grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him with her to answer the door. Seriously these men killed her sometimes. They could shoot at each other and try to kill each other all day but _**not a damn one**_ of them knew how to handle the awkward silence of two of them being in the same place unexpectedly.

* * *

Ripley sighed as she crawled out of the driver's seat of the gleaming cherry red 2010 Aston Martin One-77 and quickly grabbed her black blazer. She was so mad right now she was sure the next person to piss her off was going to spontaneously combust from the look she would level on them. Her ex called her and offered her his condolences for London's passing-which had actually been pretty sweet and nice for him- and had sent a beautiful flower to LuAnne's service (one she was very sure he had At and Sarah pick out but it was the thought that counted) . . . which was fine until Happy had taken it upon himself to take the phone from her and, after a growled warning- hang up on him. She'd been shocked beyond belief as the Nomad glowered at the phone before pocketing it and going back to disappearing into the throngs of other mourners, Sons and Cara Cara girls. Then Chibs and Bobby had shown up thirty minutes late-which had explained Opie's unexpected but appreciated presence on her front porch to take her to the service- and Clay had to practically tear a few of the Nomads pouring into town to help with the Club and Sack's passing apart to keep their hands off of the pornstars until _**after**_ the services.

_And then_ Tig called Opie's prepaid and yelled at her for not answering her own phone-neither knowing or caring that Happy had confiscated the damn thing- and putting him through the hassle of tracking her down through the other Sons. And then yelled at her for letting Hale sit with her at the service-which made her make a mental note to skin Happy and Opie alive for being rats-and for letting him into their house. If it hadn't been for the little thrill hearing him call her house his home had given her then he would be a single Son again . . . but he had saved himself by telling her he loved her right before launching into a fifteen minute rant about Gemma being so hard headed and unruly.

After finally getting off of the phone with her irate and horny but abstaining lover-which why he had felt the need to share with her for some reason was beyond her at this point- Lyla had been enough to break her heart. Mary was in town and watching her and Ope's little ones . . . and the willowy blonde had barely moved from the side of the coffin even after they'd started to lower it into the ground. When she'd gone to check on her, she wasn't prepared for the mauling that came as soon as she was close enough . . . but she didn't have the heart to push her away. Even with the odd stares they were getting from the 'normal' guests.

And then the confrontation with LuAnne's gold digging sister at the damn family car had about pushed her over the brink . . . Actually Hale had been the only thing to stop the altercation before it began, telling Christiania that whatever LuAnne's will had dictated was both legal and binding . . . and that if she kept causing a scene then he would have a squad car escort her from the premises. Which she knew had earned the future Chief a slew of brownie points with Clay as he watched the whole fiasco unfold.

She growled, closing the door none-to-gently. The cars had just been the cherry on the cake of her very shitty day. Apparently, London had left her everything . . . claiming in her will that Ripley had been her only remaining family. Which had just sent her into a nice crying fit in front of the poor lawyers who was delivering the message . . . and the pristine car. She'd stopped by her house long enough to change clothes to go into work after collecting London's ashes, Opie and the Tacoma Sgt at Arms Kozik acting as her escorts since Piney was helping with the kids, and had found the man and his partner waiting on her front porch with the papers for her to sign.

As soon as she'd been able to, she'd signed what she had to and told them to leave the keys to the Camaro on the table and had kept the shining Aston keys in her hand while she accepted the manila envelope from the man. Inside it were the keys to London's apartment in Long Beach-as well as the property deed for it and the penthouse she'd kept in Los Angeles, both completely paid off- a check for the remainder of her savings, stock and account holdings-after the estate taxes of course- and a copy of her will and testament. Opie had handled her turning into a crying mess about as well as he had Lyla, awkwardly patting her shoulder after the lawyers left and telling her it would be okay while Kozik had surprised her. The man and Tig hated one another-an old beef that Tig refused to tell even_** her**_ about- and his flirting with her had done nothing but cement their ongoing manly macho bullshit . . . but there he'd been, dipping into her house and bringing her a glass of Jack-neat and cold- and a handful of crumpled tissues.

She'd looked at the offering almost in awe before he started to fidget and thrust the tissues into one hand and the drink into the other. She'd thanked him and had laughed at his obvious discomfort . . . and his grousing as he sank into the other chair on her porch.

_"I swear I can't stand to see women cry . . . And if Tigger ever found out I'd stood by and just watched you bawl your eyes out he'd slaughter me for sure. If your damn crazy brother didn't first . . . Just take the damn tissues, drink the damn drink and lets forget this ever happened. For all of our sakes."_

She sighed, shaking her head to clear her thoughts and try to get herself together. She was supposed to meet the ATF agents twenty minutes ago to take custody of Sack and she'd hated having to call Hale to tell them to wait. She was the only one settling two estates and it wasn't as easy as the fucking melodramas on TV made it seem. She knew she was just the unofficial protector of LuAnne and Otto's holdings until Otto was released but she was still the one having to deal with it . . . but after today that one was at least settled. Now she just had to go to Long Beach and clean out London's apartment . . . and decide what she wanted to do with it. The LA penthouse she was going to rent out-per the instructions in the Will-but there were none for the Long Beach space . . .

She reached out, swiping her card to get into the back of the Coroner's office and to head towards her space, only to notice the ATF. Or, as it were the decided lack of ATF . . . she bristled, pocketing the keys as she opened her door. If that bitch had left before she could claim Sack's remains and begin the official proceedings necessary to give him back to his Brothers she would kick her scrawny little ass. She still had to grab Chibs or Bobby-because Opie and Happy were on her shit list for the funeral rat out stunt and Tig would skin her for even thinking of taking Kozik- after this and go to Lodi to claim the damn Camaro from impound. God, today was just sucking more and more . . . and who the _**fuck **_was this going through her damn files?

* * *

June Stahl had done as much research on SAMCRO's pet pathologist as possible before she decided to come here today. And she was decidedly impressed with the other woman. She was younger, not even thirty yet and had already risen to a very prominent position in an non-Son-affiliated town before transferring back to Charming. And, despite what she and Hale had both speculated, there wasn't a shred of evidence to suggest that she'd done anything but occasionally go to the Club to visit and drink . . . or have a casual affair with Clay's right hand man, Trager. An affair that-according to all of the sources around town and the office-wasn't anywhere near as serious as Unser had wanted her to believe. Besides which of those controlling brutes was seriously going to let their _Old Lady_ go off and traipse all over Lodi with another woman?

She smirked, shaking her head before looking at the file on top the other woman's desk while she waited. The picture on the front was obviously a modeling still and the woman depicted in the rich ink on the glossy paper was absolutely gorgeous. Her smirk fell as she traced the stunning face smiling up at her. What a waste . . . The door slamming shut brought her out of her reverie and back into the present. And Lord what a present it was . . . She had to admit that she might not care for Trager too much but if he was smart enough to bed this woman more than once then they obviously had something in common.

She had very feminine features-good bone structure, almost perfect nose, high cheek bones, plump pouty lips and amazingly light colored eyes rimmed with dark fanning lashes- and a body that June herself would love to possess . . . in any way she could. Her golden curls were falling over her shoulders, cascading around her as the different tones of gold and platinum swirled together and seemed to glimmer in the harsh light of the morgue. She was dressed pretty practically in fitted black trousers and a skin tight black dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to her elbows, with a black blazer tossed over her arm . . . and bright red leather stilettos peeking beneath the cuffed hem of her pants to match the red glasses perched on her nose.

Stahl smiled at her, happy to find that this wasn't going to be a complete waste of time. Even with her little fling with her latest partner she could still enjoy the view . . . apparently the Sons had done something right for once . . .

So saying that the pure venom that spilled from behind those plump kissable lips was shocking was an understatement from Hell . . . but God damn if it didn't make her want to see if the fire burning behind the girl's sea glass green eyes was just limited to work . . .

"Excuse me but who the hell do you think you are? And what the fuck are you doing in my office? Going through my files?"

Stahl straightened, noticing that even in her heels she towered over the other girl before stepping closer and extending a hand. Making sure to keep the file in her other. Something about all of this was familiar and she wanted to know what . . . but first she had to do this . . . Maybe she could convince the pretty little pathologist to let her borrow the file if she offered to help. It was no secret within the local law enforcement that while she practically ran the office she wasn't the lead pathologist on the case because of their relationship. A helping hand would be a Godsend to her right about now with five victims.

"Sorry but your assistant let me in. I'm Agent June Stahl with the ATF. I'm supposed to be meeting a Doctor Shaw here to release a set of remains . . ."

The girl's glare didn't drop as she stepped forward and held out her hand palm up, ignoring Stahl's as she waited for the file. Stahl smirked, nodding slightly before handing over the folder. Oh this girl was good . . . and she wasn't the least bit afraid of her or the Agent badge . . . Oh Gemma Teller-Morrow must just_** love**_ this one. Stahl held both hands up in a sign of faux surrender as the girl snatched the folder back and shook her head, grumbling as she walked around her to place it back on its pervious home on her desk before turning and propping against it. Effectively keeping her from being able to snoop or scoop up any odd pieces of paperwork. Oh this girl wasn't just good . . . she was fucking brilliant.

Stahl grinned, shoving her hands in her pockets as they looked over one another and was glad she'd forgone her normal suits in favor of the tighter gray dress pants and fitted white dress shirt, her own black heels making her legs seem even longer. And she knew that the way the girl was looking her over she was being evaluated . . . Maybe this would work out in her favor after all despite the initial hostility. She needed to make nice . . . Quick. But not too nice or the girl would know she was being played.

"So . . . any leads on the case or is it cold until the next poor girl pops up mutilated and defiled?"

Shaw's eyes flashed and Stahl watched them smolder before going frigidly cold. And she didn't know which was hotter . . . the fire or the ice. But she recovered quickly and shrugged, dropping her keys and coat on the desk top before crossing her arms.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss _this_ case with you, Agent Stahl. Besides, I can't know too much about Ms. Aikido's case without there being a conflict of interests . . . I sign off on the tests Andrews and Nickels want to perform and pray they're good enough to do it justice. Besides, with four other victims it's not like there isn't a lack of evidence . . . Just not the kind that's led us to where we need to be yet."

Stahl nodded, accepting the answer for what it was: a polite and professional 'Fuck you stay out of my shit'. She knew that Shaw probably knew every word in that file . . . and she was smart enough to not voice it because of protocol. Very clever little fox she'd found in the Crow's nest . . . She decided on a different tactic.

"I see. Well, that's unfortunate . . . but these things always seem to work themselves out eventually right? _**Everyone**_ slips up . . . But I _am_ sorry about your loss . . . actually if the Charming rumor mill is to be believed you've suffered a few over the past few weeks. Were you and Ms. Aikido close?"

Shaw nodded, still guarded as she answered.

"Yeah . . . we go-went way back. Dated off and on for years . . . why?"

Stahl smirked, happy to hear the little admission about the relationship but she wasn't stupid enough to think it wasn't planned. She doubted this woman did anything that wasn't . . . without being pushed. Which is the thought that led her to speak before weighing the pros and cons.

"Oh really? Were you both, oh what does the Club call them . . . ah yes, Croweaters before you decided to stick with each other?"

The dark humorless bark of laughter that escaped the pathologist's lips was sharp enough that Stahl knew a lesser person would be pouring buckets of blood by now. But her next words shocked her enough that she dropped the manipulation act. This woman-whoever she really was and whatever her ties to the Club, and therefore the Irish- was as close to an equal as she'd met in years . . . and she would respect that. In her own way . . .

"Yeah right. You saw her . . . before that bastard got to her. She was almost purely about women, sweetheart. And I can assure you that the only SAMCRO affiliate that London Aikido _ever _ate was me . . . So if you're done trying to dig up shit I don't know can we please sign the damn papers and let me get to work? I have a lot of shit to do and not a lot of time to do it, thanks to your department dragging their feet."

* * *

Ripley sighed as she walked quickly into the Clubhouse, keeping mostly to the darker side of the lot and thankful she had kept the all black work ensemble on. Tara of all people had come to get her before Stahl had left, shocking the snooty doctor right into silence as she watched the bosomy blond hand over a small business card and wink. Ripley had accepted the card, more than a bit stunned at the sudden turn in her attitude and methods but not enough to fawn over the innuendo laced offer that went with the card. Or balk like Tara had . . .

"Here . . . if you need anything with these cases or just want to talk about anything Non-Club related feel free to call. Anytime. If you're up for it that is . . ."

Ripley had wanted to roll her eyes but she knew with Tara in the room it wouldn't serve her as well as it would've if it'd just been them. Stahl hadn't noticed the Doctor yet and when she did she would think it was a play . . . or a set up. Even though she wasn't the one to start passing out numbers. So she'd nodded and shrugged, tossing the card onto the desk with the release forms for Kip like it didn't matter. But the twinkle in Stahl's eye told her that she'd done just enough to keep whatever was making her acting this way alive for another day . . . Which was the main reason she needed to talk to Clay.

She knew now that she'd piqued the Agent's interest-be it through the Slasher case or her perceived limited connection to SAMCRO she wasn't too sure- and she was going to have to be careful with this. She knew she was going to be watched pretty closely for the next little bit. And she did not need a misunderstanding like had happened with Opie . . .

She passed the bar, grabbing Kozik's freshly opened bottle of beer before going straight to the Church doors. Ignoring the Tacoma Sgt at Arms squawking as she went. Clay looked her over and shook his head, chuckling as he closed the door behind them. He had told her to bring the new problem to Church and they would settle it . . . she just wasn't looking forward to this particular conversation. It had always been awkward for her and him to talk about her equal love of both sexes-like a father and daughter having to discuss the birds and the bees- but she needed to get this out. Especially before Tara did something stupid.

She sank into Tig's seat and took a long draught of her stolen beer before beginning.

"Stahl paid me a visit today . . . and released Sack into my care. You can get ready to hold the funeral for the day after tomorrow if you want . . . I can turn him over to you tomorrow morning . . . and the Funeral home said they could have him ready before six . . . The faster the better with how long they've had him . . ."

Clay nodded, lighting his cigar before speaking.

"Good to know . . . what did the scrawny little cunt have to say? Any threats to you like she's been doing Tara?"

Ripley shook her head, Tara's animosity suddenly making a bit more sense. That would've been nice to know before now . . .

"The opposite actually. I heard from a little bird this morning that ATF Barbie bats for both teams . . . more to the point, the team with my particular colors. And after today I don't doubt it. She started up with all of the subtle hints and prodding and when that didn't work she went for the shock value."

She laughed darkly before taking another long drink.

"Poor bitch doesn't have a clue that I live with Tig fucking Trager and grew up in SAMCRO . . . I think i might have rattled her more by staying fairly neutral than hitting her would have . . . Apparently her ego didn't take to well to someone not falling at her damn feet . . ."

Clay raised a brow, tapping his cigar into the crystal ashtray before leaning forward and looking her over. She knew that he would see the potential in this the way she had . . . and now she just needed to see what to do. She might not particularly like the idea but this was her family this bitch was fucking around with. And if she could help stop her then she would.

"How so?"

She shrugged, leaning in to speak lowly enough that anyone listening outside the doors-and there almost always was with these gossiping ninnies- wouldn't be able to hear her.

"Enough that she gave me her personal cell phone number and the promise of a 'sympathetic shoulder' should I need one . . . I have no clue what her angle is with this shit but it can't be good, Clay . . . And I really don't appreciate her putting me in that situation . . . or touching anything on my damn desk. Like I would be stupid enough to leave my SAMCRO membership card laying out in plain sight at the fucking morgue . . ."

Clay blinked, sitting back in his seat before letting out a biting bark of laughter and shaking his head.

"Goddamn cunt . . . Okay . . . I normally wouldn't ask _anyone_ to do this Baby Girl but we're in bad way . . . and I need as many eyes and ears on this fucking bitch to keep us all from going under. So here's what we're going to do . . . **_you_** aren't going to do anything you aren't completely comfortable with-_anything_ to could go against the ink my Brother put on your chest- but if you get the chance then you see what info you can get. And in the meantime, we keep your stops with us limited to what they_ have_ been-family seeing family. Limit your interaction to that and make sure she doesn't have a clue that you know where Gem is and we might have a chance of keeping her away from you. She'll burn down everything you've made if she suspects you're playing her . . . you okay with this?"

She shrugged before nodding, killing off the rest of her beer. She stretched, popping her back and groaning as she stood.

"Sure Poppa Bear. I'm not really for playing with ATF Barbie . . . But I can . . . I mean it isn't like I haven't done worse in the name of SAMCRO right?"

Clay sighed, shaking his head. He and her father were the only two people to ever know everything that happened with her and Pops when her mom was killed. He'd helped them fill in the damn grave and supplied their air tight alibi . . . Even Tig didn't know what she was capable of if pushed too far . . . and she'd like to keep it that way. The cold rage wasn't too hard to control but it was oh so tempting to just surrender to . . . until you snapped out of it and found yourself covered in blood. With a body to dispose of . . . Clay had never questioned or pushed, just accepted what went down as fact and necessary and left it alone. And she knew it had cemented her as loyal in his book.

"Yeah I guess you have . . . but **_you_** need to tell Tig about all of this shit. I know Opie and the boys sent Tara today, thinking it would help her with some of this grief to see you and maybe say a private goodbye to Sack before the wake . . . Stahl's been pushing pretty heavy for her to talk with them if I know the bitch . . . and Jax isn't . . . with it enough to be of any real use yet. Not until we get any solid info about Abel . . ."

Ripley nodded, going to hug him and hearing the warning between his words. She needed to let her Old Man know she would possibly be spending time with the bitch who was responsible for Gemma-and in turn his-exile while he was away. She groaned, knowing the fight that would come from this but she knew-once she told him Clay set it in motion-he would back down. Hopefully . . . God today just fucking sucked!


	32. Chapter 32

_And Tigger is back . . . well, kind of . . .  
_

* * *

Tig listened to Ripley talk, keeping one ear on the conversation and one ear on the woman in the shower. Gemma was being a true pain in his ass and had been pushing to go and see her ailing father. Apparently her bitch of a mother had kicked the bucket and she was suddenly overcome with the need to see her father. To make sure he was okay . . . Tig sighed, leaning back against the headboard and wishing that-as he closed his eyes-when he opened them he would be back in his and Ripley's bed and she would be spread across his chest, talking quietly in his ear as he traced lazy patterns in her skin. He groaned, shaking himself. He **_hated_** this waiting shit . . . and he **_hated_** not being able to be with _**his**_ girl.

He wasn't too proud to admit that he was effectively spoiled now. Ripley let his freak flag fly at high mast and was a more than willing participant for most anything he wanted. That coupled with her own voracious appetites and tendencies equaled a sex life for him that had yet to leave him wanting. Other than the drunken romp with the Croweater the night of Bobby's party-and Gemma's rape, God _**that**_ made him feel like a true fucking putz- he hadn't really wanted much of anything else. Oh sure, he'd let a girl at the Cara Cara wrap party give a mediocre blowjob but he'd been quick to come home, shower and crawl right in bed with his girl, letting her do it right. He grumbled, shifting as he felt himself start to harden. Goddamnit just listening to her on the damn phone was bad enough right now . . . _and he hadn't even been gone a full fucking week yet_ . . .

"I swear to God, Ripley when I get home we are locking ourselves away in that damn house and not coming out for a _**month**_. This shit is getting** old** and **quick** . . ."

She laughed at him and he felt himself grin, despite the fact that she was making fun of him. It was good to hear some of the joy back in her voice . . . she'd been so down with everything going on . . .

"_Oh my poor Tiggy is about to __**pop**__ isn't he? Have you __**ever**__ gone this long without sex Baby?"_

He grumbled but the smile never left his face. The water still running in the bathroom meant it was safe to talk freely for a few minutes . . . and if Gemma came in and gave him grief about overhearing then she could kiss his ass. She was part of the reason this was so damn hard . . . She just wouldn't do what he kept telling her too.

"Not since I got out of the Marines Baby Girl . . . So everything is settled with LuAnne and London?"

He could practically see her nodding as she answered, twirling a ringlet around her fingers as she worried her bottom lip. And he felt his cock jerk in his jeans. He loved to see her do that, because it usually gave him an excuse to liberate the abused little piece of flesh and soothe it with his own. God damn he wanted to tell her where they were and have her drive up here . . . But her next words killed that and stifled his lust.

"_Yeah . . . Everything's set for the rebuild of Cara Cara now that I solved the insurance issue . . . and I've talked with Bobby about keeping up the finances. They should be able to reopen in a few months . . . and start pumping some legal revenue into the Club to help compensate for this shit. I guess my biggest shock today came in the form of London though. I never knew she was leaving everything to me . . . it never crossed my mind, you know? I mean I figured she didn't even have a Will . . . and then these lawyers show up after LuAnne's service and just hand me what's left of her life in an __**envelope **__. . ."_

He sighed, hating the melancholy that was sinking into her voice. His girl was hurting and where was he? Fucking Oregon. Where he would go away if he ever got caught . . . God they just didn't think sometimes . . .

"I would guess it would be. So what are you going to do about it? I mean, what exactly did she leave you? The text earlier was kind of vague . . ."

"_A 1000 sq ft. apartment in Long Beach and 2700 sq ft. penthouse in Los Angeles, both paid for free and clear. I'm going to lease out the spot in LA and probably make a day of cleaning out the Long Beach loft sometime soon. I may take Lyla and Tara, see if I can get them to keep this growing friendship going . . . By the way, you know anyone who needs a car?"_

He blinked, more than a little shocked at that question.

"What? What are you talking about? What car?"

"_London left me both her Camaro and a rather lovely 2010 Aston Martin One-77 . . . I drove the Aston today and I have to admit I love it. I'm probably going to keep it. But the Camaro . . . I don't know about yet . . ."_

Tig settled back into the bed, blinking as he processed the information.

"See if Clay wants to use it for the Club. Car like that isn't what anyone would expect someone from an MC to be in . . . could come in handy. If you're okay with that . . ."

"_I'll think about it. I mean I __**don't **__want it trashed or disrespected, Alex . . . it was __**hers **__and she__** loved**__ it. I would want it taken care of no matter __**what**__ I do with it . . ."_

He smirked, knowing from the sound of her voice that she would keep it. And probably let the Club borrow it from time to time if they needed it. His girl was a surprisingly sentimental little thing to have been so damn cold when they first met.

"I'm sure it would be. Anything else I should know?"

Her silence told him there was and he knew right away he wasn't going to like it as she started.

"_Well, I finally got to meet the illustrious Agent Stahl today . . . and my pow-wow with Hale this morning was a good thing. He gave me a little tidbit of information to use however I saw fit . . . and Clay and I agree that it might be for the good of the Club to see if some distance for me would help make it settle . . . __**should**__ the need arise . . . but I just need to tell you __**first."**_

He snorted, rolling his eyes.

"What? The bitch a closet carpet muncher or something?"

The eerie silence on the other side of the line answered his question and he saw red. He sat up, growling at her over the phone through grit teeth. He was already going to have to head out for Nate's in the morning . . . he did not want to have to even possibly worry about his Old Lady playing house with the bitch trying to take them all down. Or being all alone in their house without anyone to protect her because of the same fucking cunt . . .

"Are you fucking serious? Has Clay lost his goddamn mind? He drills it into my head how you're not a fucking Croweater, but the first time you could prove useful he wants to what? Either abandon you or pimp you out? You're_** mine**_, Ripley. My _**Old Lady**_, inked in to SAMCRO and protected just like any other person . . . you are _**not**_ a fucking piece of ass to throw at the damn whore trying to tear our family apart. Or someone who gets tossed the wayside to make it easier for the rest of us . . ."

Ripley was quiet for a long time before she spoke and it worried him. Because it meant she was thinking . . . and she was a master at getting him to see her point when she put her mind to it. But she could think all she wanted, she was **_his_** fucking girl. She was in his bed-their bed- and no one else's . . . and she wasn't going to be left undefended . . .

"_Look it isn't my favorite idea either . . . and Clay told me to keep it simple and low key.** If** it comes down to that. Other than that I'm just going to do what I did when I first moved . . . But if it means I could help you, help the Club and Gemma, I'm not going to ask your permission. Besides, you knew about this possibility long before you inked me, Alex Trager. I may not particularly care for __**her**__ despite the fact she has a nice rack-" _He snorted but didn't interrupt_-"but I __**do**__ like women . . . I'm not going to change that for you . . . The same way I haven't asked you to change for me. We both have very varied and wide tastes . . ."_

He grumbled, rolling his eyes and knowing she was right. But it didn't matter. She was _**his**_ . . . and he _**didn't**_ like sharing her. _**Not **_with Stahl. So he opened his mouth and spoke before he thought . . .

"Oh so that makes it _**right**_? Jesus Christ, you're an Old Lady now, Ripley. If that doesn't mean anything to you, then go ahead and do this . . . but I _**will**_ treat this little forced vacation I'm on like a run . . . and plow through as much pussy as possible. You bet your sweet little ass on that, Baby Girl."

* * *

Ripley fumed as she glared at the prepaid in her hand. Finally, she set the damn thing to the side and reached out, starting the water in her tub and tossing a good handful of the bath soak that went with her-and Tig's-favorite body lotion. God he was being _willfully_ obtuse on this subject . . . And overly callous. He might not agree with this but he didn't have to threaten her with an ultimatum. She felt herself shut down as some of the rage at the twisted turns her life had been put through started to surface . . . and she pushed it back. They didn't need to fight over this and she needed to end this call quick or there wasn't going to be a point in either of them calling back . . . .

But she couldn't seem to stop the words from leaving her lips, dripping with saccharinely sweet venom and wrapped in one of her best bedroom tones. She knew he would be pissed but she hadn't expected this . . . and Gemma wouldn't let him run off to get any strange so this was as good as teasing him into getting her way. She knew from their numerous romps just how much her voice-in the right tone with the right emphasis on carefully woven words- could do to him. He fucked with her about this too much and she'd make_ sure_ he kept blue balls. _The dick._

"What's wrong, Tigger? Afraid I might crawl in her bed and not come back to yours?"

She grinned, cutting the water off before sliding into the steaming tub, groaning as the heat and soap started to relax her. His own little groan told her she'd won that little bout . . . and that she'd been right even if she was joking. Her poor baby was jealous . . . And he shouldn't be. She _would_ move on, find another girlfriend or two eventually . . . but June Stahl _**wasn't**_ going to be it. She was too needy and controlling. Too high strung and high maintenance. Alex needed to see that . . . understand it . . . She just wished she could make him . . .

His voice brought her back to rights and sent shivers coursing through her. God she loved his voice almost as much as he loved hers . . . and it was rare she got to hear him be so raw and open. _Especially over the phone . . ._

"_Not at all, Little Girl. I loved seeing you with another woman. It was so fucking hot I was **almost** tempted to** just** watch . . . I just don't want __**her **__touching you. She destroys everything she lays her filthy fucking hands on and I happen to enjoy you just the way you are . . . You're __**mine**__ and I don't appreciate having to hear I might not get a __**choice **__in sharing you . . . Especially with her. I __**love**__ you Baby Girl. I just want to keep you safe. And anywhere near her is the __**exact **__fucking __**opposite **__of that . . ."_

She smiled, chuckling as she settled in the water and willed herself to relax the rest of the way.

"I know Baby. I know. Just know that I am not incapable of defending myself . . . and that when you finally get home we are going to spend as much time in bed as you've been away . . . I've already put in the tentative request for an 'impromptu vacation' . . . And I will only be doing that with _**you**_ Tigger. My Old Man . . . Got it?"

He groaned and she knew now that he was probably as hard as fucking diamond. And his next words just served to prove it. In fact she had to keep from laughing out loud . . .

"_Got it, Baby . . . Look I want to go ahead and give you the heads up that we're probably going to head out for Nate's in the morning before Gemma tries to hotwire another damn car . . . But enough about all of that shit . . . what are you wearing?"_

She grinned, sloshing the water loud enough for him to hear it over the phone and he cursed.

"Oh, I didn't tell you? Today was so stressful I decided to make use of my poor, neglected tub . . . You always insist upon showers when you're home . . . so I pulled out the bath soak to go with my lotion . . ."

Another groan had her biting the inside of her cheek to keep her composure but she plowed ahead, knowing that this was too mean . . . and far too fun to stop. They'd never played like this before and she wanted to see how far she could push him . . . And if it pushed him into hauling ass back to Charming and her bed then so be it. Clay and the others would understand . . . eventually . . .

"And ran a nice hot bubble bath . . . Why? What are you wearing?"

The sounds of a door opening and Gemma's irritated voice filled the line before everything was muffled by the slamming of another door and what sounded like a shower coming on. She raised a brow. What the hell was he doing?

"Tig? Honey are you there?"

Finally, after some rustling around she heard him yelp and curse before coming back on the phone. Voice thick with need.

"_**Goddamnit **__Little Girl you can't do shit like this to me . . . not when you're not here to take care of __**it**__. __**You**__ just caused me to toss Gemma out and practically freeze my dick off in the ice shower I'm taking . . . Can't you just come up to Oregon? __**Please**__?"_

She groaned again, knowing now that the begging wasn't just for her benefit. God she really had spoiled him shit rotten if he was this wound up after a few days . . . Whoever said that men over forty lost their sex drive had obviously never met her Old Man.

"You know I can't . . . but I can help you with that little problem of yours if you want me to . . ."

"_How in the hell do you plan on doing __**that**__?"_

"Honestly? The SAMCRO resident deviant nympho doesn't know how to have phone sex? Juice and Opie will be heartbroken to know their hero has fallen . . ."

He groaned again as she laughed. Who would've known that she would give Tig a first . . . But his growled response cut her newfound joy short. And made her heart leap. All thoughts of fighting and residual anger faded away as she listened to him.

"_Oh __**trust **__me Girl I know how . . . I just prefer the real thing. Cause my hand isn't anywhere close to you . . . or yours for that matter . . ."_

"Well, I guess we'll just have to work _really_ hard then won't we?"

* * *

Ripley was up and ready bright and early, standing at the Charming police department with the release papers ready for Clay and Unser to sign . . . now all she needed was for _them_ to show up. She was technically off today so she hadn't really bothered with any of her work clothes, opting to get as much use out of her dresses as she could before Tig got back. Because he had proved him and her in a skirt was only a winning combination in the privacy of their bedroom . . . Out in public-or even driveways- not so much.

She sighed, looking down to straighten her dress before looking up to see none other than David Hale looking at her like she was some sort of mirage. Okay so this wasn't what she normally wore but she was going out with Lyla today to find something to wear to Sack's wake . . . and she wanted to wear something from the back of her closet for once.

Her blonde curls pulled back and out of her face, bangs pinned up top in a pretty high pomp while the rest was gathered in a loose half-bun, large ringlets already escaping to fall down her back. She had on these vintage pink freshwater pearl earrings and a dainty pendant chain necklace with a gorgeous and very feminine platinum key that was completely covered in diamonds. The small platinum tag beside it had a tiny diamond on it as well, with Chaosia engraved beside the stone.

She reached up, fiddling with the necklace out of habit before dropping her hand and nodding to Hale. Who nodded back to her almost dumbly before snapping into action and crossing the room. She was suddenly glad she'd taken the time to do her normal barely there make-up . . . and as Stahl rounded the corner following a very frustrated looking Tara, she was beginning to doubt the reasons she'd decided on the _cute_ little sweet heart dress. The pale pink cotton was as soft to the touch as it looked, printed with a tiny cream cherry blossom pattern that matched the odd cream eyelet lace trim. She'd donned a cream cardigan over the strapless top, which actually worked with the lace to showcase her chest without seeming trashy or too obvious. And kept her new Crow from sight . . .

Stahl stopped short when she saw her and Ripley had to remember not to roll her eyes. She did instead nod to the other woman and wave to Tara-who was quick to walk towards her and away from the staring agent. Ripley grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder as she got closer. Ever mindful that the woman a few scant steps from them had obviously just picked up on her ex's favorite thing about this particular outfit . . . While it came to just above her knees, the lace trim was on the skirt hem as well, grazing the tanned flesh there and making it seem darker. That coupled with the pale pink satin ballet flats-complete with tiny cream lace piping and edging around the mouth of the shoe and the toes- made her legs seem even longer than normal. Normally a very valuable weapon to have in her corner . . . but with the way the other woman looked at her she was suddenly desperate to change into jeans and a tee shirt.

She turned her attention to Tara as Unser came around the corner looking for Hale, Clay following a few steps behind. She saw the look cross his face and knew he was watching now, curious to see if she was right . . . but she didn't need to concentrate on that.

"You okay?"

* * *

Tara nodded stiffly, turning to glare at Stahl before looking back to Ripley. She was dressed far nicer than she'd seen her in years-outside of the work suits of course- and she suddenly wondered what the occasion was. But she shook herself, knowing that while once Ripley would've told her near anything now she would be lucky if she pissed on her while she was on fire. Their relationship was getting better-especially since she'd accepted Lyla as a person and not an Ima clone intent on stealing Jax-but she wasn't going to push it. She might not always agree with the other woman but she missed having her in her corner.

"Yeah I'm fine . . . you look nice today . . ."

Ripley smiled, a true blushing smile as she laughed and reached up to push her hair out of her face, glancing around before speaking softly to her.

"Yeah well I don't get a lot of chance to wear my dresses anymore. I used to all of the time in Long Beach but here . . . not much use to . . ."

Tara nodded, eying her skeptically before it clicked. _**Tig**_ was out of town with Gemma . . . Oh that was too funny . . . She grinned, trying not to laugh as she reached out and hugged Ripley quickly. But she couldn't resist teasing her . . . it was too easy to fall back into the habit . . . even with all of the years and drama between the last time they'd done so.

"Oh I get it. Can't trust your guy with 'em so you're getting it out now . . ."

Ripley blushed, scowling at her before smacking her and crossing her arms, turning away from her. And, she noticed the bitch that was still watching them. Clay had called last night and given her the heads up about all of the shit with Stahl . . . had even talked with her about what she needed to say one more time before she went in today . . . And she'd honestly thought that maybe David was going crazy. But he wasn't . . . She shook her head, laughing. Was every woman around here going to spontaneously pop up and declared themselves as bisexual or was it just the tall strong blondes?

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Tara Knowles. I just _wanted _to wear a dress today . . ."

Tara grinned, laughing before she sobered. She leaned in; trying to make sure no one was listening.

"Is he okay with this? I mean Clay told me so that I wouldn't freak out should she try anything with you . . . which was really odd but really . . ."

"Sweet? Yeah, he does that from time to time. He usually doesn't get to with all of the shit in the MC. Gemma actually works pretty hard to cover up he's a big ol' softie . . . Damn near cried the other day when the bird kept screaming 'Momma' after it heard Gem's voice on the answering machine . . ."

Tara knew it wasn't funny but she couldn't help the laugh that escaped and sounded of the walls and drew everyone's eyes to them. She blushed and Ripley rolled her own, patting her shoulder condescendingly while she shook her head and followed after Clay. Hale stepped up, coming to keep her company while Stahl waltzed right past them and followed Ripley to the room with Unser.

As soon as she was gone, Tara looked up at Hale, brow raised. Hale however just shrugged before walking them into his office. Well, soon-to-be-office anyway . . . muttering as they went.

"I got no clue, Tara. I slept with that woman for months and I _still_ don't know a thing about her . . . I swear it's like she's honed in on Ripley though . . . "

Tara nodded, looking back at the now closed door.

"Yeah, I got that. Too bad if she tries to fuck with her Tig will probably kill her."

Hale nodded, sinking into his seat and shifting uncomfortably.

"Yeah . . . and that's one crime I wouldn't do jack shit to investigate . . . I warned her this morning that Ripley isn't SAMCRO . . . not like you and Gemma. Or like LuAnne was. She's the daughter of a fallen Son. And that fucking with her would be very, very stupid on her part . . ."

Tara looked at him, eyes narrowed as she watched him. He had tried to push this meet with the Feds as long as he could, helped her with the loss of Abel and been feeding them any information he could . . . and she knew he at least suspected that Ripley was inked now . . . Why had he done that . . . Hale seemed to pick up on her thoughts and held his hands up defensively.

"Hey I don't know and don't want to know. I _**need**_ her for this department to survive . . . And so long as she doesn't do anything illegal then I am more than willing to willfully ignore her attachment to SAMCRO and Tig Trager. Mainly because while I'm beginning to see her reasons for the first, I can't even begin to comprehend the second . . ."

Tara smiled, going to stand as she watched Ripley and Clay come out of the room, Unser hot on their heels while Stahl just leaned against the doorway and watched them leave. Oh the poor woman didn't know that Ripley was like a damn lion playing housecat . . . she was going to gut her if she tried anything . . .

* * *

Clay watched Ripley hug Unser as she went to get into the pristine red Aston she was driving and noticed how much the Chief lit up when she pulled a small brown paper bag from her huge cream purse, winking at him as she slid it to him like it was something highly illegal. And when Wayne pulled it open, grinning like a kid at Christmas he saw why. She'd made his-and Gemma's-favorite candy . . . white chocolate brittle with chunks of soft peppermint. The candy was something she'd always done to help with SAMCRO functions and sales, even charity rides, and to see that she'd made it just for the ailing Chief spoke volumes of how much she thought of him.

"Just don't tell the Misses I didn't make any for her . . ."

She blushed, grinning from ear to ear as he tore a huge chunk off and started munching away. He was even generous enough to hand Opie-who was looking at the bag like a kicked puppy- a small piece with very little peppermint. But the tall Son was more than happy to accept the candy and lean against her car, watching them together. Jax was propped against his own Dyna, parked beside Tara's Cutlass and waiting for her to come out. He looked to Clay, clearly anxious as they still saw no sign of his Old Lady.

Clay sighed, turning to Ripley . . . who was happily eating a rather large piece of her own candy while Opie kept trying to steal it. He smirked, happy to see that there was still some life to SAMCRO in the wake of the shitstorm that had almost buried them alive. Now if they could just figure out how to climb out they might be okay . . . He shook himself, clearing his throat and catching Ripley's attention.

"Hey Rip?"

She stopped, still holding the candy away as Opie tried to reach for it again before stomping down on his foot hard enough to make Unser and Jax wince. But even Jax couldn't hide the small smile that flitted across his face before shutting back down. God they needed to get some kind of lead on Abel or he was going to crumble . . . but first they needed his Doc out of the damn precinct.

"Yeah Clay?"

"You see Tara before you left?"

She shook her head, breaking the candy in half and offering it to Opie. Who snatched it up before she could blink and crammed it in his mouth. She looked at him amazed before rolling her eyes and turning back to Clay and Jax.

"No . . . I talked to her before the legal crap . . . Why? You want me to go and get her?"

As Clay went to speak, Tara burst out of the front door, Stahl hot on her heels. And the girl did not look happy. She crossed the lot, Stahl stopping with Unser as she kept going to her own car before turning to Jax.

"I hate that bitch . . . I'm going I've got to go to work . . ."

Jax nodded, glaring at Stahl before nodding once to Clay and following Tara out of the parking lot. Clay watched Opie slide a bit closer to Ripley, slinging his arm over her shoulders before dipping to kiss the top of her head. He smirked, knowing that Ope had been charged-with Happy and Chibs-as Ripley's official babysitters in Tig's absence . . . her longtime friendship with the second generation Son-and over protectiveness of her- being key factors in his selection with Tig's two other choices. Happy would kill to keep her safe, just because he and Tig were close in the 'Hey we both kill things in fucked up ways let's be best friends' kind of way, and Chibs adored the girl for making him come clean to Gemma (ultimately saving his ass).

And the poor little Agent was trying not to look pissed. Oh Ripley had been right . . . and she didn't know that she was in far more danger than any of them. Stahl had proved she'd kill for meaningless promotions and pieces of paper . . . what would she do if she really wanted something from the girl and she was refused? He shook his head before nodding to Ripley and Opie to go. Ripley nodded back, waving to Unser and Stahl almost too innocently before climbing in the Aston and-after waiting for Ope to get ready-flying out of the parking lot.

Unser glared at Stahl before nodding to Clay and going back inside, leaving them alone. The woman just smirked, striding up to him confidently.

"I must say Gemma trains them well . . . speaking of which, any word on where your wife is?"

He looked down at her over his glasses before chuckling in disbelief. This bitch really was crazy . . .

"No . . . I thought you Feds were at the top of the game on this shit. Any word on my grandson?"

She shrugged, looking up at him before speaking again.

"Unfortunately no. Cameron is smart . . . and as for Gemma . . . It'll be so much easier if she just turns herself in . . . goes along with what's going to happen . . . safer that way. You know?"

He growled, snorting as he looked down at her.

"All I know is that my wife is on the run and my grandson is missing because you decided to fuck up everyone else's lives to meet your own ends. Well let me tell you sister, anything happens to my family-my wife or that boy- and I will shove my gun right up that boney little ass of yours and blow your black fucking heart out."

She blinked before laughing and taking a step back.

"Loud and clear . . . Interesting though that you didn't include Dr. Shaw in that little speech . . ."

Clay grinned while he grimaced mentally. They'd been right . . . and this was going to get messy, he could fucking feel it in his bones.

"She's my family . . . sweetheart. Has been since the day she waltzed into that Clubhouse with her Mom and Pops. I kind of figured you'd know all about that, seeing as in you've been eyeing her since she got here."

Stahl's smirk turned dark and Clay knew she thought whatever she was about to say was clever and would blow him away. Unfortunately for him, this time it really did . . .

"I figured a little cooperation between us would be good. Especially since she's helping track a killer . . . who I think might be tied to a Cold case on the East Coast . . . Her being family and all . . ."

He looked down, debating whether or not to take the bait before folding. If she knew something to get this fucker out of Charming-away from his family and to give Ripley some peace over her girl- then he would talk with her. But only about that.

"What do you mean? She's been reaching out to every agency before London was killed and getting the brush every time . . . what do you know?"

She looked over before looking back, suddenly very serious.

"Serial killers seem to have more success on the West Coast than on the East . . . More room, more people and less likelihood of being connected should a whackjob slip through the cracks . . . I've seen this before . . . Actually in DC. The FBI were on him, tracking him-though they never had a name to go with the carnage- and then he just up and stopped. Disappeared. Seven years later, same kind of girls pop up here . . . tortured the same way. I can't say for sure but I would be willing to put money on it being the same guy . . . I could get in touch with the lead on the case. Pull a few strings . . ."

Clay snorted, turning to get back on his bike.

"Yeah . . . for my wife and her agreement with your bullshit story right?"

Stahl shook her head, grinning again.

"Nope. For the Irish. One Irishman in particular . . . Jimmy O'Phelan."

Clay shook his head, amazed at the woman before him. If she were a man she'd make a hell of a Son . . . but soon enough she'd be worm food.

"Sorry toots. The only Irishman I know runs the Dooley Pub in Stockton . . . and he's about as worthless as third fucking elbow."

And with that he was gone . . . but at least he knew where to aim Juice if another girl turned up . . .


	33. Chapter 33

Ripley and Opie pulled into the Teller-Morrow lot, Ripley getting out of her car and making her way towards the Club slowly. Clay had called her and asked her to meet him there before she started out for her shopping trip . . . and she could tell by the tone of his voice that whatever he had to share with her wasn't going to be good . . . She sighed, straightening her dress and cardigan before opening the door, smiling and waving to the others. Chibs and Happy were at the pool table, Kozik standing close to them with a beer in hand. Which he almost dropped when he looked up and saw her.

Kozik moved, coming to stand right in front of her with an almost awed expression on his face as he looked her up and down. She raised her brow, crossing her arms right under her chest . . . which caused her cardigan to fall just enough to the side for her Crow to shine against her skin. He snapped out of it, smiling as he spoke to her. But none of the cockiness or bravado he'd displayed before was present . . . This was odd.

"'Sup Mrs. Sgt.. You doin' a'ight today?"

She smiled at him, nodding as she tried not to laugh at the title. Okay . . . this was really, really odd.

"I'm fine, Kozik. Just been a weird day. Why? Afraid Tig's gonna find out and try to blame you?"

He laughed, taking a long hit from his beer before shrugging and grinning at her. An easy smile that wasn't anywhere near as sexual as the previous grins she'd received from the Tacoma Son. Okay, had she stepped into the Twilight Zone or what? First the shit with Stahl and Hale at the station and now this? She knew she didn't wear dresses often but damnation she was a girl. Hell, her involvement with Tigger should set that worry to rest.

"He'll try to anyway . . . Tig doesn't really need much reason with me, ya know?"

She shook her head, laughing as she crossed to the Church doors just as Clay stepped out of them. He sighed, nodding his head towards the back hallway . . . to where John's Harley was incased in glass with pictures and memorabilia tacked on the paneled walls behind it.

As they stood there, Clay's eyes never left the bike as he spoke to her. And the weight to his voice let her know how hard this was for him.

"Stahl asked about you after you and Ope rolled out . . . about how you were connected to the Club. If I tell her that you're Tig's then I open up another door for her to use to hurt us and you . . . but if I don't-we don't- and this . . . curiosity she about you continues then it good grow into something we can't control . . . I don't know what to do here, Chaosia . . . I'm at my wits' end . . . But I will tell you that she dropped me a huge line about this killer. I-I just want to know what you think. Tell me what you want to do . . ."

She looked up at him before turning back to the glass, eyes traveling over the multitude of pictures that made up so many small parts of SAMCRO's history. Her history. Her eyes fell on her Pops and John's smiling faces and she wished that either of them were here to tell both of them what to do . . . She glanced back at clay before taking a deep breath and speaking. She would go with her gut . . . it never led her astray before . . .

"I don't want to have to be any closer to her than possible . . . and I know Tig is very against it . . . but if she knows something that could help Charming-help us keep this whacko out and everyone else safe-then I'll do what I have to . . . I just . . . I'll play nice, Uncle Clay. Nothing else . . . I may like girls but I sure as hell don't like her . . . Not after what she's done to this Club. To my Brothers . . . what she caused to happen to Ope and to Tig . . . His head still isn't right over that shit . . . Plus my Old Man was very vocal about SAMCRO not 'pimping me out' to the ATF . . ."

Clay finally looked at her, eyes dark as he nodded before reaching out and pulling her into his side, arm over her shoulders. She could see how hard this whole thing was on him. Not only did he have to bare the weight of the ATF attack on SAMCRO and the betrayal of the Irish, he was balancing Abel's kidnapping, the upcoming trial and Gemma's exile. And trying to stave off Jax's nervous breakdown . . . and keep the rest of them safe for the foreseeable future . . . If she could help with that then she would. She and Tig could deal with it . . . She hoped . . .

Her phone went off, causing both of them to jump and her to dig through her huge leather hobo purse and curse as she laid her hands on the prepaid. She looked at the small phone, perplexed when it didn't vibrate or ring in her hand . . . until she realized it was her regular phone going off. She handed clay the prepaid and dug out the other, answering it before looking at the number.

"This is Shaw."

"_Ripley, this is Hale . . . I just wanted to let you know that Unser and I will be at the wake tomorrow night . . . And to warn you that the ATF will be present. They're looking for Gemma pretty hard. Just be careful, okay? Stahl is pretty intent on making sure their presence known . . ."_

Ripley's face paled as she realized what he was saying. . . and felt her blood boil as she realized that not only would Gemma not be able to be present in her official Club capacity but that Stahl would be there when she couldn't. Clay was right, this woman wasn't normal . . . and while it bothered her she knew that she would have to at least play nice. She just didn't want to . . . She glanced up to Clay, eyes wide as she mouthed 'Hale'. Clay's own eyes widen before he raised a brow at her. He leaned down, whispering to her as she covered the receiver on her phone.

"What's he want? You give him your number . . ."

She shook her head, turning to answer as Hale's voice floated over the phone.

"_Ripley?"_

"Yeah . . . sorry. I'm just . . . surprised . . . Did you need anything else or . . ."

The laugh on the other side of the phone actually sent a little shiver through her. She couldn't say that she minded hearing that throaty little chuckle . . . if it was coming from someone who hadn't made it their mission in life to try and destroy everything she cared about . . . even if it was through some misguided sense of a higher purpose or justice. She smirked, channeling that thought into trying to make her self sound nice.

"_No, no . . . I just wanted to let you know that . . . and to see if you needed a ride there. Unser and I are going together and I know your man isn't in Charming right now . . . I don't know how you guys are going to do this . . ."_

She nodded, turning to Clay who was still watching her intently. She sighed, shaking her head as she covered the phone.

"It's fine . . . just a heads up about the ATF and Stahl. And to see if I was going with the department or with you guys . . . since Tig isn't here . . ."

Clay stopped, blinking before nodding to her and turning to go back towards the front of the Clubhouse . . .

"Probably isn't a bad idea for you to go with them. Unser will do his best to keep you safe, so will Hale . . . and it'll keep Stahl from getting too many ideas in that fucking head of hers . . ."

She nodded, watching him go before turning back to the phone.

"I'll go with you and Unser, Hale . . . Who knows maybe I'll be able to help you two fit in with all of the visiting Sons . . . Wouldn't that give your poor brother a freaking heart attack . . . "

His laughter told her that he thought the idea was just as funny as her . . . now if she could only convince Tig that it was. Oh well . . . this was going to be one of those better to beg forgiveness than ask permission scenarios . . .


	34. Chapter 34

_Okay . . . last chapter before Christmas! Yay! I hope everyone has enjoyed my little deviant tendencies and that you all have a wonderful and safe Christmas!_

_

* * *

_

Her eyes were heavy and her mouth tasted like copper and cotton. She blinked, trying to will her eyes to focus . . . but all she saw were blurs and dark angles. Nothing seemed to be right . . . she moved, trying to wipe her eyes clear and felt panic strike her system like lightening as she realized she couldn't move. And that something cold and hard was biting into her skin painfully now that she'd pulled forward. She stopped, trying to steady her breathing and forcer herself to stay calm. But when light suddenly flooded her dark, dank little Hell she knew she was fighting a losing battle. Because there, illuminated by the orange glow pouring into the space and lying face down in a pool of dark blood was her best friend. And despite how closely she watched him with her uncooperative eyes, she couldn't make out any movement. If anything he was _too_ still.

She looked up as a shadow locked the light and felt the bile rise in her throat. She had no idea where she was, who had her. And God in Heaven help her there didn't seem to be anyone around to save her. She closed her eyes and started praying, her lips quietly forming the words as she hung her head and sagged against the metal chains. And no matter how hard she tried not to, she couldn't will the tears pooling behind her lashes away. Because she knew that she wasn't going to live through this. . . and that one thought made her sure that even though it made her seem weak . . . it was probably one of the few times in her life it was okay for her to cry.

**"Open your eyes . . ."**

She looked up, trying not to glare as the blurred, dark shape that had eclipsed the light pouring into the room started closer, the large curved blade clutched in a white knuckled fist as he made a lazy circle around her. She kept her uncooperative eyes on him, tracking his movement as he slowly got closer. Her heart started to race she looked over him, the shadows still hiding his face as he moved steadily to her, the light glinting off the rusty blade-covered in what appeared to be old black and brown blood- as he swung it almost lazily in time to his steps.

He stopped in front of her, reaching out with the blade to trace the path of her jugular with the edge; the tip biting into her skin as he watched her almost wantonly. She tried to swallow, then almost cursed when the movement caused the blade to catch on her flesh. His sharp intake of breath told her that the blood she felt oozing lazily from the wound was only going to be the first of many slices but she was too panicked now to think on that. She tried to lean back and away, tried to escape the blade he was now pressing harder and harder into her skin.

He groaned as she finally cried out as he drug the blade hard down her neck to her clavicle and collarbone, digging the sharp edge down into the muscle and skin before stabbing hard enough to knick the bone. She knew she was crying, the tears rolling freely down her cheek s and down her skin . . . but she only heard his groans and chuckles as he leaned in and dipped to trace the jagged mark with his tongue. She felt the bile rise in her throat as realization finally set in-and the panic and fear from before vanished. She would die here, at this man's hands . . . but she wouldn't go easily. And it was with that last thought that she shut herself off and refused to give him the satisfaction he obviously craved.

And the next time the blade bit her skin, she ground her teeth to keep from crying out, squeezing her eyes shut tightly to block the covered face of the monster tormenting her. And when she heard the gun cock, felt the cold barrel pressed against her temple, she opened her eyes . . . and thrust her head hard into his, savoring the satisfied crack from his nose. He staggered back, gurgling beneath the sheer black mask as she laughed. She knew she was dead . . . even before the hate filled his eyes and eh leveled the gun on her. But if she could take the sound of his bones breaking and her own laughter with her to the next world . . . then she would be going on her own terms.

Four shots later, Melanie Carrington- the niece of Elliot Oswald and favorite cousin of Tristen- sagged against the cold metal chains, feeling herself grow colder than the dirty links keeping her upright as her breath came in short, desperate pants. And as her heart pushed the last bit of blood of her chest and spilling over her now mangled skin . . . her lips moved in prayer. She was dying . . . but she was free. And so long as the man wrenching her head up by her dirty blonde hair to glare down at her wasn't there, she was pretty sure that even Hell would be better than this.

* * *

Ripley sat beside Hale in the Jeep, glancing out the window as they made their way slowly towards the mortuary. The streets of Charming were already overflowing with the black and white cuts of the Sons . . . representatives and members of most of the twenty eight Charters had shown in a grand show of support for the Mother charter's loss. And David Hale looked about ready to freak.

She sighed, tucking her curls out of her face before reaching out and patting his hand as they parked beside Unser's cruiser. The Chief nodded, waiting for them to get out as Hale turned to look at her. He was in uniform-just like Wayne- as a show of order and unity for the town . . . or so he'd said. She was pretty sure he just couldn't bring himself to don a suit and walk inside to bid farewell to Kip the same way he had for LuAnne. This really was going to be a baby step process for the future Chief.

His voice brought her out of her musings and caused her to raise a brow.

"Jacob came by the office today, after you all left . . . asked me to throw in with him for Mayor. I told him that I would support him as a brother Ripley. I-I might have to as a Chief to . . . But it all depends on how it goes down. I'm not going to let him bring another Zobelle into our town-our home . . . I just wanted you to know . . ."

She nodded slowly, suddenly weary of the impromptu admission.

"Okay . . . but why? Why tell me?"

He shrugged, looking out and over the streets of their home. The front lawn and most of the roads leading to Powle's were covered in bikes and Sons . . . and the people of Charming that had come out to mourn beside the bikers.

"Because I was serious before. My office isn't for sale . . . and you seem to be level headed enough to keep it that way. I know that you're loyal to your family . . . just like I am to mine . . . but we'll both do what we have to to protect this town. These people. Besides, I figure Clay will hear it better from_ you _than Unser . . ."

She blinked, letting it sink in what he was saying before she patted his hand again and got out of the Jeep. She waited as a group of Sons passed before going to stand with Wayne, hugging him before turning back to Hale as he made a comment on the level of Charming support for the Son wake. Unser laughed, shaking his head as he nodded towards the town.

"Charming doesn't like to see SAMCRO vulnerable . . . makes 'em uneasy. 'Sides . . . they know who and what these boys are. What they do for us . . . They're showing their respect for that."

Hale nodded, looking back to the mortuary. Ripley sighed, shaking her head before reaching out and looping her arm around Hale's waist, shocking both cops as she hugged him and patted his chest. It was something she would've done for any of the Sons . . . . but for some reason she felt the need to do it here. Maybe Hale was growing on her. Great. Just what she needed another parasitical fungus to eat her out of house and home like the Sons and Nomads . . .

She pulled back, turning to go to her family before stopping.

"We're all hurt by what happened with this Hale . . . and as far as Charming knows that **man** died trying to save a baby from a madman. They see that for what it is. An act of heroism without regard for the survival of the hero. Kip was brave and died a way he shouldn't have . . . But he died with honor. They respect that. The same way they'll respect you for standing up for your own principles . . . and not SAMCRO or Jacob's. They know an honest man when they see one . . . despite what everyone else says. Do all of us a favor and remember that . . ."

He nodded before laughing and shaking his head at her.

"You sure you're just twenty nine, Ripley? You sound like an old wise woman . . ."

She shrugged, turning to cross the street. And calling over her shoulder as she made sure her black turtleneck jersey knit dress was straight. The damn hem kept trying to rise above her thighs after she'd gotten out of the Jeep . . . she'd have to redo the slate blue clunky leather belt cinched around her waist as soon as she got inside . . .

"What I may lack in age I make up for in wisdom and fashion sense, oh great Chief Hale. And you would be wise to listen . . . and to never brown socks with black shoes again . . ."

Hale and Unser laughed, propping against the cruiser as she made her way across and up the steps. As she saw Bobby and Chibs smoking she smiled, nodding at the two other Sons with them before hugging the Redwood Originals. Chibs tossed his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into him. He offered her the cigarette-which she took gratefully- and dipped to talk quietly with her.

"What was all 'hat about then?"

She shrugged, inhaling the smoke into her lungs and willing the nicotine to calm her now shoddy nerves. She didn't want to be in this funeral home again. She was really beginning to hate the damn place. But thankfully after today she wouldn't have to set foot inside for a very long time . . . she hoped anyway.

"Just reminding the good and future king that we're all on the same side . . . and to be _weary_ of his brother and the finery he's promising."

Chibs nodded, looking up to greet Clay as he stepped outside and nodded to Kozik who was climbing the steps slowly. He nodded to them before settling against the railing. And Ripley suddenly knew that the man's continued presence in Charming would probably be permanent . . . if her Old Man didn't blow a gasket first . . .

* * *

Kozik stood to the side, watching as Clay held out a hand to Ripley and tilt his head towards the viewing room. He had to admit as she walked away with the Son's President that the girl really did clean up nice . . . and Tig was a lucky fucking bastard for finding her first. That woman was probably the closest to perfect for his fellow Sgt that he'd ever seen. Hell, he'd seen Tig with Allison after he first patched into Charming . . . heard their fights and watched the fallout of her fucking with him. All of which had been after they'd divorced so he shuddered to think of how their marriage had gone before it bombed. But this woman seemed the total opposite of his former Old Lady . . . and had apparently knocked her one for fucking with her if Bobby and Chibs were to believed.

And while he and Tig were never going to be best friends . . . he knew that if he wanted to stay in Charming-to come home- he would need allies to sway the Sgt. And what better ally than his Old Lady? It wasn't like getting to know her was going to be some horrible experience . . . the girl was smart-scary fucking smart-and as ruthless as the other members of her family before her. He'd watched her beat down on Mikhail, putting the towering Nomad in his place for fucking with her with a few well-placed punches and one hell of an ear box . . . and while he wasn't stupid enough to think that Mikhail would ever willingly hurt his sister he knew that they had both been pulling punches.

He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his tall blonde spikes before turning to talk with Happy . . . who was watching the girl very intently. Uh . . . wonder what that was about? Happy cleared his throat, drawing Bobby and Chibs eyes to him before he spoke to Kozik. And had him trying to back peddle quick.

"Koz, even without all of the shit between the two of you . . . you get that if Tigger sees you watching her like that he'll gut you on the spot . . . Brother or not. Right?"

Kozik knew he was paling as he looked from Happy's serious and emotionless face to Bobby and Chibs. Bobby was glaring at him while Chibs looked torn between cussing and laughing. Fuck! This wasn't good . . . not at fucking all . . . He had to fix this shit before they got his ass killed.

"Oh hell no man! It isn't like that! At fucking all! I swear! Shit . . . I ain't gotta deathwish . . ."

Bobby rolled his eyes as Chibs snorted, lighting another cigarette before point at him.

"Oh really then? What was all tha shite at the Club about before then? Tryin' to pick 'er up?"

Kozik groaned, sinking back against the brick wall and glancing around before answering. He had to be truthful or they would know. And then they would tell Tig and he would really be a deadman. He didn't want the other man's girl. He'd already seen that while she was nice to look at and _hella_ loyal she was **_way_** more batshit crazy than he ever wanted to take on. He sighed, shoulders sagging as he began to plead his case, mindful that Opie had stepped out with his own girl . . . Lola? Lima?

"I was just fucking around, man. Trying to get a rise outta Tigger. Hell, I had no clue she was his Old Lady, you know? I figured she was some hang around that he had his sights on or some shit like that . . . I mean, after all of the shit with Allison I never figured he'd take another. He seemed pretty damn content with all the free pussy and Croweaters you know?"

The looks on their faces spoke volumes so he continued, knowing now that he at least had the benefit of the doubt.

"And as for now . . . shit. I see what she is to him, how she is about him. That pretty little thing is _**her own**_ special brand of crazy to keep **Trager** in line and we **_all_** know it . . . And I personally do **_not_** want to fucking cross the woman who can make my body a John Doe in the fucking morgue, thank you very fucking much. I'm not that goddamn stupid. Besides . . . I can think of a _**lot**_ better ways to aggravate Tig that won't land me in critical or in a drawer."

Happy chuckled, clapping him hard on the back while Chibs shrugged, seemingly satisfied with his response. But Bobby and Opie were both still glaring at him pretty hard . . . and when the tall, quiet Son spoke he knew he'd better listen.

"Ripley is a sweet girl and loyal to this Club . . . this family. She and Tig are happy-some how- and while I don't get it or always like it I won't let anything fuck it up. Tig's my Brother and that girl is my Sister. She's been through far too much to deal with the bullshit she's shouldering these days . . . so this is the only time I'll say this. You wanna know her, be friends or close? Fine. But I ever find out it was all some sort of play to get back at Trager and you won't have time to worry 'bout him. Got me Brother?"

Kozik nodded, seeing for the first time some of the same darkness in Opie that he'd seen in himself and Tig. In Happy and even Chibs with the mention of Jimmy O. The changes of the Club and the shit with the ATF had hit the once gentle Son hard. And Kozik knew that when the final power shift hit-the transition from the Old to the New- that Opie would probably be the one to take Tig's place when he fell. And for some reason that in and of itself terrified him.

He reached out, extending his hand to Opie with sincere and serious eyes.

"I get it, Brother. And I swear on my Cut and Patch I won't do anything to hurt or fuck with her. Or anything else in SAMCRO. Quite the opposite actually . . ."

"Oh really?"

They all looked up to see Clay standing back in the doorway, Ripley and Tara hovering just behind him talking quietly with Ope's girl-Lyla!- as the President looked them all over. Kozik nodded, straightening just a bit as he locked eyes with Clay. Guess now was as good a time as any . . . right?

"Yeah really. Tacoma's getting kinda thick . . . you know? I was hoping to talk to you all at the next Church and see about jumping charters. Back to Charming."

Chibs and Happy both shared a look before Happy shook his head, stepping away and down the ramp. Kozik knew the former Tacoma VP was heading back up to see his Mother . . . but other than the normal nod goodbye and well wishing he couldn't forcer himself away from the issue at hand. Clay just nodded to Happy, seeing him off before turning back to him and shrugging.

"We'll put it to vote, Kozik . . . but I don't see why it wouldn't happen."

Opie's snort and Chibs chuckle answered their opinions . . . just like Bobby's statement. God did everything come back to one stupid fucking fall out? Seriously?

"Sorry Brother . . . but that is Tig's call."

* * *

Clay just glared at all of them, knowing that in the end he had ways of getting Tig to say yes to the vote. Two very convincing ones actually-four if he could swing it. Named Gemma and Ripley. And if Tig pissed him off enough, he'd heckle Ripley into getting Dawn and Fawn in on the action.

Tig had a weakness for women . . . and Clay had four of the largest advantages now that Ripley was inked. He hated to resort to it but their ranks were dangerously lean . . . and with five of them facing serious time away he needed to bolster the roster while he could. Kozik was a good choice. A Charming native, loyal and hard headed enough to do what was needed. He could act as a fill in for Tig while they were inside if he had to . . .And he was sure that despite the hate between them, his Brother would see the logic in keeping his new Old Lady safe while they were away.

Now he just had to convince Ripley to convince Tigger.

Great.

* * *

**MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY! **


	35. Chapter 35

_Okay, this little intro is to remind everyone that this story is AU. Some things will happen in accordance with canon and some things will not. They may appear out of sequence . . . but I swear its only because its the way I need it to go fro what I'm trying to do. This is part one of a two part update. i hope everyone had a great Christmas and a Happy New Year! Now on with the show . . ._

* * *

Ripley sighed, crossing the sloped front yard of the mortuary trying to find her brother as she replayed Clay's requests-both said and unsaid-over and over in her mind. She herself wasn't too thrilled about the blonde Sgt At Arms initially but he was steadily growing on her . . . especially after he proved that since she was off his radar now he could be civil and friendly with her. Of course she knew that was probably a strategic move on his part but she could appreciate the benefits . . .

But while Clay shouldn't have promised Kozik something he knew he might not be able to deliver she could understand his reasoning behind it . . . and she would support it. The ATF cunt had already made their lives hell and she knew that the impending Federal charges for the Zoëbell raid were going to put them away for a while-at least two or three years if she was calculating right . . . She sighed again, reaching up and running her fingertips over her Crow longingly.

Each day that passed brought her closer and closer to being truly alone for the first time in a long time. Tig was gone now with Gemma but when-if-he ever got to come back he would eventually have to serve the time or forever be on the run. Bobby, Clay, Jax and Juice would be going away with them . . . and Gemma might not be able to return anytime in the foreseeable future. And she would be here; outside in Charming . . . This was going to drive her and Tig mad.

And while she was at least here-able to do something to help-Tig was up North with her loving wonderful Godmother who was being a gigantic pain in his ass. He was already having to take her to Nate's . . . and she was sure that he was about to snap. After a few seconds of thought, she made a decision that she prayed she could live with. Tig was under so much stress she was sure he was going to pop eventually. Only a few things would keep him from doing something really, really stupid under that pressure . . . She could do this. She could be a good Old Lady and look out for the best interest f not only the Club but her Old Man . . . hopefully . . .

She shook her head, digging her phone out as she stopped on the steepest portion of the slope; sending him a quick text before shoving it back in her bag as she spotted Mikhail across the street near Hale and Unser . . . talking with a very trashy looking Croweater. She rolled her eyes, starting towards her brother. Dear God was everyone going to get laid tonight but her?

* * *

Everything happened so quickly she was sure she'd imagined it at first. Like a random spark deep in her brain had produced the nightmare she found herself in . . . because there was no way someone had been stupid enough to shoot up a Son wake . . . and she wasn't trying to keep David Hale breathing in the middle of the street. She'd been so close to the van that had screamed up she'd almost been hit . . . and thankfully she was on the non-bullet-producing side of the vehicle when the idiots had started shooting everything up.

She'd watched everything happen in slow motion as people-citizens of Charming she'd known or know of most of her life-got hit by the stray bullets . . . and the Sons moved to retaliate right beside the police. She knew that everything had only taken a few seconds-under sixty actually-but it seemed like an eternity had transpired from the first shot to the gut wrenching crack of bone as they'd made their escape . . .

David had jumped in front of the van, firing into the windshield to try and stop them from getting away . . . and had been hit head on. He'd rolled and fallen to the ground covered in blood . . . and she hadn't even stopped to think as she ran to him, trying to stabilize him. His pulse was thready and weak; she knew his heart was trying to stop. And from the dark blood gushing from the jagged gashes in his chest-and the bubbles that would appear ever so often- she knew he had at least three of four broken ribs . . . and a punctured lung. But she couldn't stop working or he would die faster than he already was . . .

Tara had finally pulled herself out of her shock a few seconds ago and was down on the ground beside her and taking over trying to push air into Hale's lungs . . . She cursed as she checked his pulse and didn't find one. Other people were starting to gather and she knew that if they didn't make progress pretty quickly then these people would be witnesses to the youngest Hale's death at the hands of an MC rival. Working side-by-side, both were still struggling to get David Hale's heart to start again. She knew Tara was far better suited to deal with the CPR chest compressions but she knew that she had the upper body strength and endurance where the Trauma doctor didn't. Years of boxing, exercise and performing autopsies had gifted her with that at least . . . Hale let out a sputtering breath and she felt his heart pump once. Twice. Three times before it stopped again. And the life ebbed away from his eyes as his bloodied and battered head lulled to the side.

_**Shit . . .**_

Jacob Hale was just behind them, sitting there staring helplessly as the broken form of his baby brother took what she knew was his last breath. And in that instance Ripley felt her heart go out to the crooked bureaucrat. She knew if it was Mikhail laying here on the asphalt in a pool of his own dark blood then she would probably be doing the same thing the eldest Hale was . . . Either that or what Jax had done before the other officers had finally pulled him off of the shooter he'd been beating to death.

She sighed, looking up to Unser and shaking her head. The ailing chief nodded, head dipping as he raked a hand over his face. She knew he was wiping away tears and she wasn't about to point it out. Because she knew her own cheeks were dangerously close to being soaked as Jacob reached out and tried to wipe the blood off his brother's face. Ripley didn't know what possessed her to do it but she reached out and laid her hand on Hale's shoulder, trying to offer some comfort.

She glanced over, watching the others pull back and try to regroup as the paramedics worked to save the innocent spectators that had been hit in the drive-by. She was barely aware of her lips moving in a silent prayer as she watched the bloodied little boy being worked on . . . and his mother weeping as she held his brother to her. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she stood, motioning for Tara to do the same, and led her towards Clay and the others. She wouldn't turn around, even when she heard Hale start fighting the EMTs to take David's body. She couldn't bare to see them carry David away . . . . or to see Jacob crumble any more than he already had.

* * *

When they got back to the group, Chibs pulled Chaos and Tara aside and- grabbing each by an arm rather tightly- ushered them towards the mortuary as Happy and Kozik followed. When he closed the door, he turned on her and it was very obvious that he was very upset with her. But why?

"Damnation Lass! Did ya not think before ye jumped inta tha shitestorm? What'd my Brothers do if somethin' happened to ye?"

She blinked, trying to process the question as Tara came to life, glaring at them. Ripley was glad to see some of that spark here as she glowered at the three Sons trying to lecture them into behaving. And while she knew that Chibs' heart was in the right place . . . he and the others had no clue what had just happened. She and Tara were trained to react to something like that, to try and preserve life at all cost if they could . . . and while she admitted that she usually saw more of what happened after the life had already be taken she was adept at saving people when she had to. She'd done her clinical and residency rotations through the various hospital stomping grounds . . . Tara's voice broker her out of her thoughts as she noticed Clay slip in and Happy slip out . . . leaving the three of them alone with Kozik and Chibs.

"I'm sorry if it offends you but we had to do something. David is-was my friend and I couldn't let him lay there in the street and die without at least trying to save him."

Chibs went to speak as Clay's booming voice cut him off, drawing the others eyes to him as he stepped around the Scotsman to check on her and Tara. Tara got looked over first- with a pat on the shoulder and a fatherly kiss to her forehead- before he turned to her.

"Leave 'em alone, Chibs. They did what they're trained to do . . . and it'll help us with the town. Hopefully."

Chibs sighed, growling as he left. And Ripley knew that if she wasn't still so numb she would laugh at the normally jovial Son's sour mood. As it stood, though . . . she just wanted to go home and wash her friend's blood off . . . She blinked. When had she started thinking of Hale as a friend? Until their conversation hadn't she thought he was just a massive pain in the ass? Clay was still looking at her, watching her and she knew why. The last time he'd seen her covered in blood hadn't been a good time for any of them . . .

"Oh aye. Let 'em run wild and see what happens. Trager's gonna shite his heart is what's gonna happen . . ."

* * *

Clay shook his head before nodding once to Kozik and Tara. He still wouldn't touch Ripley, not in front of the others. If he did she might break down and he wanted her to do that in private. Not with either of these people in the room. The Club may need 'em, and he would trust them with his life . . . but not with her. She was carrying burdens they didn't need to know about.

"Go ahead and take Tara back out, Koz. The cops are taking Jax into custody. No way around it. Take her by the house and wherever else she needs to go. You stick with her until Jax can get her, you got me?"

The blonde Sons nodded, giving the doctor a friendly smile as he opened the door and held it for her. With a flourish of movement, he bowed and held the other arm out to show her the way.

"After you, _**princess**_."

Tara rolled her eyes but-with one last look to Ripley- walked out. Kozik grinned, nodding to them before shutting the door . . . and Clay didn't even need to open his arms to the girl before him. She wrapped herself around his waist, face buried in his chest as he held and rocked her; petting her hair as she clung to him. She never cried; he knew outside of the other horrible things she'd been through that she rarely did . . . but she didn't pull away as he hugged her.

After what seemed like an eternity, a knock on the door announced Khail before he strode in. His pace and the set of his face told Clay that he knew how close his baby sister had come to being on the road beside Hale . . . and he was not happy. _**At all.**_ Maybe **this** would convince the Prodigal Son to stay in Charming while they were away. Someone would need to step into the Sgt spot-temporarily-and he knew if Koz did he wouldn't want to give it up . . . Khail however would be happy in the temporary . . .

He nodded to the younger son, letting him know everything was okay before the kid blew a gasket. Khail was far too much like his father to let him get too overly excited . . . Things tended to bleed a lot when that happened. He nudged Ripley, making her bring her face up as he motioned to Khail . . . who was more than ready when she left his arms and dove into his own. Clay nodded to the siblings, going to leave.

With one finally glance back to them; he slipped out of the door and back to the others. They would find whoever kept trying to fuck with their family and they would make them pay . . . Even if he had to eradicate every fucking other MC within a thousand mile radius, he was going to make sure his home was safe and protected while they were away . . .

* * *

Tig groaned, rolling over on the soft but lumpy guest bed at Nate's and tried to get comfortable. Again. He'd been trying to get in touch with Ripley for hours . . . and ask her about the damn stupid text message she'd sent him. He growled, pulling the prepaid out of his pocket and flipping it open. No matter how many times he looked at the message he couldn't make himself believe that it was real. His Old Lady wasn't giving him permission to screw around lightly . . . not after their argument before.

And while he was the first to admit that his girl was just as fucking crazy as he was-crazier when she wanted to be-he knew that unless something was up she wouldn't be doing this. Happy had told him that she'd talked to her ex at Luanne's funeral . . . the fucking bastard had sent flowers. And Hale had been sniffing around since he'd been gone . . . that tidbit had come courtesy of Chibs. Had she decided to fuck around on him?

That wouldn't be a definite first, though he honestly hadn't really minded her romp with London . . . But he'd told her any man that touched her signed his own death certificate. And he'd meant it. Allison had fucked around on him and no one was ever going to do that again. If he got an ass-ton of strange while he was on runs it was expected. What happened on runs stayed on runs . . . but they'd been clear with one another that this fucking exile into babysitting didn't qualify. He wanted to show her she could fucking trust him . . . that he wanted to be with her . . . And she sends him this shit?

Consider this a run. Have fun and don't bring anything home. No matter how cute. Love you.

He growled, raking a ringed hand over his face. They'd hit town a little before sundown . . . and he had to admit that Nate had needed the help. The elderly pastor had barely been able to remember his own name, much less his daughter's in some of his worse moments. And he could tell it was killing Gem to see him like this. The caregiver-Anna- had been pretty up front about his condition . . . and he had to admit that-in the privacy of this bedroom and his own brain-that he'd considered bending her over something and seeing if she was as good as she looked before he'd remembered he had an inked Old Lady at home. Waiting on him to come back and make her scream his name . . .

But now he wondered if she was waiting at all, and whose name she was screaming tonight. She still wasn't answering her damned phone . . . He got up, never really thinking as he made his way from his room to Anna's. When she opened the door, smiling up at him and covered only by a white tee shirt that barely covered the pale pink panties . . . he hadn't fought the sinful grin that spread his lips. And when she stepped aside to let him in, he pushed everything else out of his mind-Charming, Gemma, Ripley, the MC-it all fell away. All he wanted to concentrate on for the rest of the night was the skin spread out before him . . . and the release he so desperately needed. He'd face the consequences in the daylight . . . Besides, Ripley wasn't alone in bed, trying to be a good little Old Lady then why should he deny himself?

_He was, after all, on a Run._

* * *

Mikhail watched his sister sleep beside him, sighing as she rolled and snuggled into what he could only guess was Tig's pillow. He so did not want to even think about that . . . because it led to thinking about what all they'd probably done in the very bed he was sitting on. He shuddered, closing his eyes. He did not want that image-or knowledge-at all.

He sighed, reaching out and brushing her hair out of her face. She hadn't dried it after she'd crawled out of her shower and he knew that tomorrow it would be such a rat's nest she would have to wash it again to accomplish anything at all. She looked so weary, surrounded by the covers and pillows, and fragile that he wanted to lock her away from everything to keep her safe. She was the only_ real_ family he had left . . . and he wanted to protect her as much as she'd let him. But there in lay the problem. Ripley was stubborn. And she would continue to shoulder everything she was carrying alone if she thought it would keep other people from worrying. Or doubting her ability to take care of herself.

He knew Luanne's death had been hard on her-harder than any of the other's save Gem and Clay probably knew-and London's horrific end was eating away her just as badly. Then all of this with Gemma, Abel and Sack had added more shit to the fire . . . but Tig's absence wasn't helping at all. It was in moments like this that he _**knew**_ he would never ever want to be a President. Because he honestly couldn't have taken his sister's only steady grounding force in this shit storm away from her like Clay had. And though he knew it was the right thing for the Club, he hated Clay in the quiet moments for it. And envied him.

It like their Pops always said . . . _Heavy is the head that wears the crown. And __**foolish**__ is the man who covets it._

Ripley frowned in her sleep, burrowing deeper into her pillow before she whimpered. Khail reached out, rubbing her shoulder until she settled. But when he went to stand, to go sleep on the white couch just beyond the bedroom doors, her hand caught his wrist in a tight grip, her knuckles turning white from the pressure she was applying. He looked down, eyes locking with hers for a few eerie moments before she spoke.

"Stay . . . I don't want to be alone. Not yet . . ."

He sighed, nodding as he shed his Cut and boots while she scooted over. When he lay down, she snuggled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder while his fingers found her hair of their own volition. Just like when they were kids and would huddle together beneath the covers during the thunderstorms they both hated. What seemed like hours later, he spoke, trying to ease some of her fears.

"You know you won't be alone, right? I mean even if this ATF shit takes a while it will blow over. And you will get to see everyone again . . ."

She shrugged, and he felt moisture leech into his shirt. He knew she was crying and he wasn't going to draw attention to it. He'd almost died when Clay had told him she'd cried in front of them a few times over the past few months. His baby sister didn't cry. Ever . . . He rubbed her shoulder again, trying to soothe her.

"Sshh . . . C'mon lil' sis its going to be fine, okay? If I have to stay in Charming while the others are gone to make you feel better then I will . . . Okay? Just please don't cry. Pops and Mom will haunt my ass if I don't stop you . . ."

Ripley giggled before snubbing, settling against her brother as she tried to go to sleep. Having someone here was nice . . . and though she loved Mikhail dearly she really wanted the arms around her to be Tig's. But her brother's would do for now.

She looked up at him, knowing she still had tears in her eyes.

"I miss them, Khail . . . so bad it fucking hurts. All of them . . ."

He sighed, tugging her closer as she buried her face in his chest and let her sob. Something her brother rarely did. He hated it when she cried more than their parents or anyone else in the MC did. But as his next question filtered through her brain she had to answer him . . . and prayed it wouldn't backfire on her.

"What is wrong, Chaosia? You never cry . . . And I _**know**_ that something is wrong . . . You've got to tell me or I can't fix it."

"I think I did something really stupid, Khail . . . Really, really stupid . . ."


	36. Chapter 36

_Part two . . . _

* * *

As the light from outside beamed in through the kitchen windows of her parents' home, Gemma sipped her coffee and tried not to think of everything that had led her to this point in her life. She'd buried a husband, a son and so many boys who were more than willing to lay their lives down for hers . . . She'd helped give one of the most-if not the most- influential MCs in the world a solid foundation and a home in Charming. She'd tamed not only the Outlaw John Teller but Clay Morrow as well . . . and she'd survived an attack that should've reduced her to nothing. Used it to make her family stronger . . . and gotten her vengeance for the great injustice against her . . . Only to end up here. Right back in Rose's house playing by the old tyrant's rules when the woman was cooling in a grave she'd never visit.

She sighed, taking a drink of her coffee before turning to see Anna come into the kitchen. She knew that there was something off about the little immigrant caregiver . . . but so long as she kept her nose clean and didn't do anything stupid she wouldn't push . . . Or at least that was what she thought until Tig came in and smirked at the blushing woman, offering her an overly friendly greeting.

"Morning, Babe."

The girl blushed even darker before ducking down and to the basement with the basket of clothes she'd carried in with her. Correction: basket of sheets. Oh she was going to fucking murder him . . . He turned, oblivious to her frustration with him. Was he really so fucking dense that he would think this was okay with her? She loved Tigger to death . . . but Ripley was like her daughter. She was going to be outraged for her when she wasn't here to do so.

"Morning, Mama. Just got off the phone with Clay. Apparently there was a shoot out at Sack's wake. Fucking idiots actually rolled up and opened fire on the Sons in Charming . . ."

Gemma blinked, momentarily stunned out of her anger with him by the news. Dear God . . . someone was actually stupid enough to attack them on their home turf after the shit with Zoëbell and the Aryans? Did they have a damn death wish or something? She shook herself, propping against the counter.

"Jesus . . . everything okay?"

Tig shrugged, reaching out and taking a swig of her coffee.

"We're whole . . . but some civilians were hit. Little boy got shot . . . and Hale was killed. Run down by the fuckers when he tried to keep 'em from leaving . . ."

Gemma paled, closing her eyes. David Hale might've grown into a thorn in the Mc's side over the past year but she was still able to see him as the gangly kid who delivered newspapers to her house . . . and would occasionally study with Ripley for the classes she was taking-much to her chagrin. She sighed, shaking her head as she looked up to Tig.

"Damnation. What a waste . . . we should be there. I should be there . . ."

She turned, pouring the rest of the drink down the sink before rinsing the cup and putting it in the dishwasher. This was getting to be to much for her weary heart to handle . . . their home was changing. And there wasn't much they could do to stop it . . . but she could get to the bottom of what was happening between her favorite Son and her goddaughter.

"So . . . you sure about what you're doing with this, Tigger? 'Cause Ripley isn't really one to share her toys despite her inclination to have one of each at a time occasionally."

Tig snorted, pulling his prepaid from his pocket before navigating to the message from last night and tossing it to Gemma. She caught it, reading the message before shaking her head. She could practically see Ripley debating on this before making her decision . . . and trying to do right by the retarded man before her when they all knew he wasn't very likely to do so by her. At least not in this respect.

Would Tig love her till she drew her last fucking breath and die to defend her along with the Club? Absolutely. But she doubted the man even remembered how to be faithful without her constantly there beside him. Ripley had just proved she was smart enough to recognize that and do what needed to be done . . . But she wasn't going to make this easy for him. Not by a long shot.

The phone vibrated in her hand, causing her to look down and grin when she saw Ripley's number. She tossed it to Tig, who glanced at the screen before heading outside. She hoped the two of them could weather this . . . because if they couldn't then the Crow Rig had been so eager to sear into the girl's flesh was a waste of ink . . .

* * *

Ripley sighed as she listened to Tig, noticing he didn't sound anywhere near as tense as he had before . . . but she wasn't going to think about that. She'd given her blessings . . . and she would stick with her word. Even if it drove her fucking crazy. Mikhail had already reamed her ass and warned her that she'd done this to herself. She'd opened this door by telling him it was a Run . . . and they both knew Tig well enough that he wouldn't abstain when he didn't have to . . .

"So everything is okay up there? How bad is Nate?"

"_Pretty fucking loony. One second he knows us and the next he doesn't . . . Its driving Gemma up a wall. But the sale of the house and shit is already finalized so all we have to do tomorrow is take him to his assisted living and be done with it."_

She nodded, knowing he couldn't see it but doing so anyway. It made her feel better and she needed that right about now . . .

"_How's everything down there?"_

She took in a shuddering breath, careful not to let him hear her. She was on her way to talk with Tara at Jax's right now before he got out this morning . . . but she doubted that was what he meant.

"it's a fucking mess down here. Between all of the drama from Luanne's funeral, getting Sack's body released and everyone that got hurt during the shit last night I'm amazed Charming hasn't combusted. I felt bad for Jacob last night . . . He might be a lot of things but he loved Davie . . ."

He snorted into the phone, making her raise a brow . . . then glower at the phone for what he followed the little noise with. What the hell was wrong with him? She knew he had a heart, she listened to it almost every night before she went to sleep, had seen it in action with her and the girls. Something was going on up there . . . and she hated that she was afraid to ask.

"_**Oh **__so it's __**Davie **__now? What? You bone him before he got flattened? He was at the house when Ope came to get you . . . and you apparently rode to Sack's wake with him. At least the fucking idiots saved me the trouble of gutting him for touching what's mine."_

She pulled into Jax's driveway, narrowing her eyes as she parked beside Tara's Cutlass and killed the engine on the Aston. She took a deep breath before answering him, refusing to rise to the bait. She was going to do this right . . . and if he ever came home then she would skin him alive.

"Regardless of how petty he could be, Alex, I did grow up with him. And riding with him was an order from Clay . . . to make a statement about the new regime being at least semi-Son-friendly. The man practically died while Tara and I tried to save him . . . painfully. He kept me out of the way of Stahl as long as he could . . . and helped Tara navigate the Feds. You could show him some respect for that . . ."

He huffed into the phone and she suddenly wanted to scream. It was like he was trying to pick a fight.

"_So you being all distraught over your little boyfriend why you didn't answer my calls last night? You killed a motherfucker and buried his damn body before, Ripley. I'm supposed to believe one little hit-and-run rocked your world enough for you not to call?"_

"NO. My prepaid phone got slaughtered in all of the confusion last night and I just got the new one this morning. It took Juice a while to program the same number and all of the contacts . . . I'm actually not supposed to use the damn thing until its completely charged but I wanted to talk to you. I miss you and I just wanted to make sure you and Gemma were okay before I was without a way to contact you . . . My regular cell got trashed too . . . But you apparently could care less."

The silence on the line told her he probably wasn't even listening anymore so she decided to go ahead and end the call.

"Look. I love you and I miss you. I've gotta go."

And with that, she hung up . . . because she knew he wasn't going to tell her he loved her back. Not if he really thought she'd slept with Hale . . . God he was so fucking stupid! And these men gossiped more than little old fucking women!

* * *

Tara wept into Ripley's cardigan, hating that she was soaking the very soft faded black cashmere but she couldn't stop herself. She'd needed someone to confide in and with Gemma gone Ripley had been her only other option. And even though she could tell that the other girl was dealing with something of her own, she'd turned off her prepaid and tossed it-and her huge faded slate blue leather hobo purse- onto the couch and opened her arms. Which had been all of the invitation Tara had needed.

She knew that things weren't the way they'd been before . . . but she was so thankful that she and Ripley had at least made this much progress. When she'd first moved back, she would've been nursing a black eye by now. Not sobbing into the heathered slate blue tee shirt beneath the other girl's cardigan.

She drew back, wiping her eyes as she looked over Ripley. She had dressed in dark washed skinny jeans that were crunched over one of her many pairs of shoes-though these were remarkably blue flats with only small bronze buckles to match those on her purse- with the tee shirt and cardigan. And the glittering long necklace with the black feather she'd taken to wearing recently. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her hair was in a high ponytail of wild ringlets; her bangs pinned back in a pomp.

Tara looked down to her own white tank top, faded and worn jeans and one of Jax's plaid flannel shirts and felt under dressed. Why did the other girl always dress so damn well? She shook herself, trying to get to the reason for her tears.

"Jax told me to leave. To go ahead and get out before the Club consumed me like it was him or some bullshit like that. Can you believe it?"

Ripley blinked, shaking her head slowly before sighing. She reached out and got Tara's hand, holding it as they sat in the floor of the powder blue room. Jax had already been here . . . and Tara had pretty much destroyed Abel's nursery after he'd cut her heart out . . . the first time. It wasn't something she was proud of but she hadn't been able to stop herself. She was so angry it was either trash something or hit something . . . and she wasn't too sure of Jax's mental state at the moment.

Ripley's voice brought her back to the present.

"He's in a bad space now, Tara . . . and while it does not excuse his behavior it is attributing to it. Give him the space he thinks he needs but still be there for him. It's the only thing I know to tell you to do . . . other than knock him in the head with something really hard and hope when he wakes up he's fixed."

Tara laughed, shaking her head. She wondered how many times Ripley had tried that on Tig already . . . she sighed, shifting in the floor.

"Do you think Margaret's right? Or is Jax? Should I take a leave or keep working?"

Ripley shrugged, her ponytail slipping over her shoulder and glittering in the light of the nursery. Suddenly, Tara felt like they were sixteen again and gossiping about boys and clothes . . . not life chaning decisions.

"I think it should be up to you whether or not you work. Margaret is right however . . . a leave looks bad on a practicing physician. For someone in my position, mental health absences are kind of an occupational hazard. Everyone needs them eventually . . . and I am definitely going to take mine. I think you should take a few personal days like she suggested, gather your head and try to keep yourself together. And if Jax can't get behind that then you tell me and Clay and we'll make him get behind it. This family has survived too much to start tearing itself apart from the inside out again . . ."

Tara nodded, feeling better having an outside opinion on everything. But something Ripley'd said was bothering her.

"You're going on leave? When?"

She shrugged, twirling her curls around a finger as she looked at the floor. Something Tara knew she did when she was thinking . . .

"As soon as Unser can sign the forms. I'm out today on personal because of what happened . . . but I know I can't do this right now. Normally, this wouldn't bother me so badly but . . . I've had to opend three people I cared about in as many weeks. I don't want to have to do Hale's autopsy. Or deal with Stahl's bullshit. So I'm probably going to go and pack up London's place in Long Beach . . . see some friends and just try to unwind . . ."

Tara nodded, seeing the logic there.

"What's Tig think about it? He okay with you taking off?"

Ripley snorted, folding her arms and looking to the side as she grumbled. Tara knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help laughing at the pathologist as she rolled her eyes. It made her feel better to know that her Son wasn't the only one being weird and difficult. But she really couldn't think of another way to describe Tig Trager . . . or the relationship he had with the girl before her.

"Oh he could care less. Clay's asked me to help sway him to Kozik's side so I made a really stupid decision. I told Tig 'I'm all about the pussy' Trager to treat his little vacation like a Run . . . and I swear if he brings anything home other than Gemma and a smile I will fucking kill him."

A few moments later, whoever passed by the Teller house could hear Tara Knowles's laughter from the sidewalk as she finally gave up trying not to laugh at her friend . . . and-if they listened closely- Ripley Shaw's good natured grumbling about how she was happy she could make somebody's day.


	37. Chapter 37

_Thank you everyone for all of the support and the reviews. I just wanted to let everyone know that the updates with this are going to be coming a bit slower than they have been. And the only reason is I'm slowly rewatching Season 3 and trying to make sure I don't fuck this up too badly. Things will happen differently and some things may not happen at all but I do want to try and keep the feel of the story and the show . . . so that in mind here are the next two chapters. _

* * *

Gemma sighed, happy to hear Tara's voice over the phone. The girl was learning . . . She'd talked with Ripley about the leave issue-a smart move since the girl was better suited to handle that one- and had dug out one Jax's prepaids to call her. And though she could hear the weariness in the doctor's voice she was thrilled to hear something other than Tig making the little Guatemalan whore scream. She'd caught him in the hallway in the tiny pink robe and had tried to pick on him like normal. But no matter what she just kept thinking about Ripley at home alone and waiting on him . . .

She shook herself, getting back to the conversation.

"So Ripley's going on leave? I bet Clay's about to have kittens . . ."

"_I think he knows it's best for her right now . . . She still has a lot to do about London's stuff, you know? The penthouse in LA was rented out but she'd got to at least got look at the one in Long Beach . . . Its been pretty hard on her. Well, that and Tig __**not**__ being here . . . Its so odd to see her __**without **__him now . . ."_

Gemma sighed again, glaring down the hallway at the other guest room.

"Tell me about it. I almost wish she was here to keep him in line. I've got no clue what's going on but I'm about to kill a certain Tigger for being bad."

"_Let me guess . . . taking full advantage of the whole Run scenario?"_

Gemma rolled her eyes, going to answer when she heard a gunshot. She jumped as Tara's voice filled the phone more than it had before.

"Jesus, Gemma. What was that? Are you okay?"

She cursed, hearing the groans and scream coming from the back of the house. This was so not what they needed . . .

"No clue. Let me call you back, Tara."

Gemma hung up, dropping the prepaid onto the counter before starting down the hall cautiously. When she reached the doorway she saw her father, holding the hunting rifle and shaking his head. He looked agitated and confused, raking a hand over his face as he looked into the guest bedroom and kept asking questions.

"Why would you do this Rose? Why?"

Gemma gently pushed him aside and felt her heart stop when she saw what had happened. Tig and the little bitch were both nude . . . and Tig had a bleeding bullet whole in his shoulder that the woman was trying to stop. She looked back at her Dad, letting her emotions get the better of her as she tried to think of how to deal with this. She was a federal fugitive and Tig was wanted in Oregon. Any hospital visit was a gamble . . . and there was no one else here to rescue him with a flatbed if bounty hunters were called in again . . . shit.

But her Dad's words broke her heart as a moment of clarity hit him, and he surveyed the scene before him and the gun still clutched in his hands. He looked up at her, so lost and terrified that he'd done this that it almost killed her.

"Oh Dear God what have I done? What did I do?"

He turned, going back down the hall and for the millionth time Gemma cursed Rose. The fucking woman was always at the root of everything! She turned back to Tig and Anna, trying to figure out what to do when the woman spoke.

"We need to get you to the hospital."

Tig and Gemma shook their heads in unison, both knowing just how bad of an idea that was . . . But she was starting to form a better one . . . .

* * *

Tara moved quickly, trying to pull everything together she might possibly need to treat Tig's wound. She had tourniquets, probe, two separate sizes of tweezers, sterilized stitches, needles, syringes . . . gauze, bandage tape, antibiotics and a higher dose of ibuprofen then what you could get over the counter . . . What else did she need? This sort of thing she could deal with . . . it was actually keeping her mind off of everything going on, being helpful to Gemma and the Club . . .

She sighed, putting her hands on her hips as she closed her eyes fighting off another wave of nausea. They were becoming more and more frequent . . . and coupled with the panic attack in the operating room and her moods she was a ticking time bomb . . . she just had to keep it together. She couldn't let this destroy her . . . she really wished she could just talk to Jax-tell him about all of this and see where he stood on it- but with the way he was acting it was pretty impossible . . . He'd probably freak at her again and tell her to get out of his life again . . .

She shook her head, forcing herself not to cry. She'd come to far, made too many changes for him and with him to let all of this crumble now . . . not to mention the fact that she loved him more than she loved breathing or operating. Now if she could only convince him of that . . .

The sound of the door slamming almost made her jump but she kept it together and started organizing her pack. Jax stepped into the kitchen a few seconds later, looking over all the stuff with disdain and aggravation. Oh great . . . he was in this mood again. She almost preferred him catatonic if he was going to be hateful . . . but she would do what Ripley said and keep it together. She would be here for him and try not to be too hurt by this . . . because to quote the pathologist reactions to trauma manifested different ways. Ten people in the same bad situation would react ten different ways every time . . . and we just had to try and help them work through that . . . .

"What's all of this?"

She glanced up, shrugging slightly as she explained, remembering the Lidocain spray she'd brought home for Abel's shots. She could numb the surface with that . . . try and keep Tig out of pain. She explained as she moved, grabbing the last thing and putting it on the table.

"Apparently Nate had an episode and shot Tig. Thought he was hurting the caregiver . . . who he thought was Rose . . . ."

Jax growled shaking his head.

"Jesus Christ . . . so what are you doing?"

"Gemma wants me up there to treat the wound. They can't go to a hospital and its pretty much the only way . . . ."

Jax's face fell and Tara prepared herself for the upcoming fight. She was not going to trash another room. Not now. She had to get on the road after this . . .

"Oh so she calls _**you**_ to come stitch up the psychopath? What about his Old Lady? No, actually I don't want either you or Ripley anywhere near this. Mom's a Federal fugitive. You get caught with her and that's serious jail time . . . What about work?"

Tara gave him a deadpan look, shaking her head.

"I _**know**_ the risk Jax . . . and I want to help your Mom. And Tig won't let Gemma call Ripley . . . he was fucking the caregiver when he got shot . . . and what happens on a Run stays on a Run. Calling her into its like a slap in the face or something but I think she deserves to know he's been hurt . . . And I'm taking a few personal days from work, trying to get this settled."

Jax growled, turning to leave and barking out his final order over his shoulders as he made his way to the front door.

"You're not going, Tara. You need to go back to work . . . go play doctor at the hospital not with my Mom and fucking Tig Trager."

She waited until the door slammed and his Dyna roared out of the driveway before making her way to the Cutlass, pulling the prepaid she'd claimed as her own from her jacket pocket. As she stowed the bag into the back seat, she dialed a number she'd been debating on calling all night. A few rings later, she sighed in relief as the very voice she needed to hear flooded the phone . . .

"Hello?"

"Ripley? Its Tara . . . Look I'm heading up to Gemma . . . Tig's been shot. Do you want to go with me?"

* * *

Ripley drove down the long deserted highway, following Tara's Cutlass in the Camaro as she scrolled through her phone book. She'd already spent most of the trip on the phone with Unser . . . and the Chief was not happy that she was actually going to take a leave. Though she was pretty sure the 'indefinite' that she'd tacked to the end wasn't really helping him. But he'd taken the information down and said he would make the necessary calls. And sign her name to the condolences cards for the Hale family. She sighed, continuing to try and find the false name she'd assigned to the number she was searching. Now if she could only remember what name she'd actually decided to use for said number . . .

She'd programmed the number on a whim and right now she was happy she had. She needed to tell to someone about some of this shit . . . and it was pretty obvious that she wasn't going to be able to trust Tig the way she'd hoped. She selected the contact, hitting send before she really thought about it . . . and felt relief flood her as the voice she'd been looking for flooded the earpiece. At least she wouldn't have to explain to Opie or Chibs why she wasn't at home in a few hours . . . or deal with Happy.

"_Yeah?"_

"Kozik? Its Ripley . . . I needed to let someone know I'm on my way to Gemma. Tig got himself shot in a weird way and Tara and I are going to deal with it."

She heard him curse and move before the sounds of the Club faded and were barely muffled in the background. _He'd gone outside?_ The other three would've been yelling for the noise to die and trying to pry information out of her while someone else took notes. But Kozik was going to let her handle this? The man just earned major brownie points in her book and didn't even know it yet.

"_Okay now I can hear . . . What happened? He piss someone else off?"_

She snorted, following Tara off an exit ramp and towards a very suspect but busy gas station . . . one where no one was sure to remember them if they were questioned and probably without cameras from depilated state of the pumps and the store itself. Just like she'd said they should if they had to stop. The good doctor was learning. She'd be a perfect little Old Lady in no time . . . .

"Try fucked someone else and got caught. Apparently Nate thought he was hurting his wife . . . . Dementia you know? Anyway he took a bullet to the shoulder and Tara's going to fix it. I'm going along to help keep everything in order until they get Nate into care tomorrow afternoon . . ."

He chuckled and she thought she heard the flick of a lighter. She groaned. She would love a blunt right about now . . . or hell even a fucking cigarette. That settled it. As soon as she got off the phone she was marching right into that station and purchasing two packs . . . . And killing her seven year record of not smoking. To hell with it.

"_Uh huh. Sure. And to kick his ass right? Despite the hair I'm not dumb sweetheart . . ."_

She laughed, shaking her head as she parked beside Tara, waving slightly.

"So you're aware that your hair is stupid? You're admitting that?"

"_Yeah but the ladies love it . . . Look. You want me to give you girls a head start or to let Clay and the others know now?"_

"Give us another two hours and we'll be there, way before dark if we're lucky and don't hit traffic . . . but I waited to call for a reason."

"_Let me guess you figured I would be like your other babysitters and rat you out over every little fucking thing, right?"_

"Yeah well gossiping seems to be the Sons new pastime . . . . Too bad they don't always have all of the facts when the go and run their mouths. Which reminds me . . . . You tell Chibs and Happy I am extremely pissed at them. If they wanted to tell Tig about the shoot-out fine. But telling him that I was too upset about Hale dying was just fucking stupid. And don't even get me started on Happy narcing about my ex sending flowers and calling to check on me at Luanne's service . . ."

Kozik groaned over the phone, letting out a laugh.

"_Oh God they didn't? Tigger's about to __**flip**__ his shit if they did . . ."_

She nodded, resting her head against the wheel. The leather was cool against her skin even with how long she'd been driving. Why did Gemma have to hide so damn far away? She was usually who she had these kinds of conversations with . . . and now she was having to make do with Kozik of all people. Why was this shit happening? Oh yeah . . . the cunt bag Stahl. That's right.

"You're preaching to the Choir, Brother. But how do you know? I thought you two hated one another . . . "

He got really quiet, so much so she barely caught his next words. She was sure she wasn't supposed to hear them so she wouldn't comment but her Old Man was going to answer some questions . . . Actually a lot of questions.

"_Not always . . ."_

He cleared his throat, continuing.

"_Look . . . it makes you feel any better I think they jumped your shit for nothing. I mean you two are docs right? Docs help people . . . and I know I would want someone to try and help me if I were fucked the way Hale was. Tigger is just pissed he wasn't there . . . he'll get over it. And if he don't then fuck him. Plenty of women have covered their Crows because not all Sons are good Old Men. Don't fret your pretty little head about it none, kay Doc?"_

She smiled, nodding.

"Yeah Kozik. I got it. You know you better be careful . . . being so nice. People might get the wrong idea that you're decent and don't do everything in your power to try and drive my Old Man even crazier . . ."

"_Why do you think I came outside, Doc? Shoot me text when you get in . . . and I'll tell the others then. Show 'em the text-pull Clay aside and fill him in- and save all of our asses . . . Just be careful. You and the little Princess are the next generation of SAMCRO royalty or something . . . going to birth the next wave of badass bikers . . . oh God Tig with __**more**__ kids. The twins are bad enough . . . the little devils. Okay I'm going to go and drink that thought away . . . Later Doc."_

"Later Kozik . . . and Koz? Thanks . . . for listening and not ratting us out . . . ."

"_No thing. Its what family does, right?"_

Ripley pulled her head up from the steering wheel, looking to the now inactive phone in her hand. She'd almost forgotten-in the turmoil of every thing around her since she'd moved back to Charming-why she'd moved in the first place . . . . and it hadn't been for a job or a romantic interlude. She'd had a great job-good pay and better benefits with more opportunity for advancement over time; a great relationship-with someone who, while hard to figure and nowhere near as talkative as her current lover- that had been pretty stable . . . and while she hadn't had with_ him_ what she had with Tig, she had never had to go patch him up because he'd been shot for fucking someone else in someone else's house . . .

She sighed, tossing the phone in her jeans pocket before getting out of her car. She'd come back to Charming for family . . . . and even though right now it was in shambles . . . and they were trying to fix it. It was still a family. And no matter how odd it was to see the changes within and outside of it, she was sure they would survive. It was still odd to think that it was fucking Kozik that had said something to spawn this little epiphany . . .

She shook her head, smirking as she spotted Tara carrying an arm load of what appeared to be junk food. With absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever . . . The little doc was so damn cute, grabbing different thins as she made her way closer to the counter. And so going in the right direction . . . and she was almost desperate for some chocolate . . .


	38. Chapter 38

_Be warned, there is torture in this chapter . . . its minor but it is here. _

* * *

Ripley pulled in behind Tara, careful to leave clearance between their cars and room for Tig to get out . . . should he need to. Not that he would need to riding with a damn bullet wound. She parked, cutting the engine and making sure to grab her purse as she got out. She stretched, savoring the tension ebbing out her joints as they relaxed and moved. God, it felt like she'd been sitting in that car for fucking hours . . . . oh wait, she had.

She sighed, straightening the ribbed faded navy blue long sleeved shirt she'd grabbed to go with the navy blue peasant dress she'd been wearing earlier. The dress itself was pretty simple fading from navy to almost black at the bottom. The shirt went well with the dress, covering the sweetheart neck and bodice while sleeve hem came to past her knuckles, covering the Reaper ring she'd taken to wearing more often than not, while the scoop neck showcased her Crow . . . or would if she hadn't put on one of Tig's wife beaters under the dress and pulled her maroon hoodie on over the whole thing. Because the last thing she needed was for anybody to think that this was bothering her as badly as it was. She had no fucking clue what was wrong with her but she needed to get her shit together . . . .

She grabbed her duffle bag, shutting the door and going over to help Tara get the medical supplies out of her own car. When Tara had finally gotten in touch with her, she'd packed up her own medical supplies-and a good bit of the stash of pills she knew had moved from Tig's dorm room at the Club- and a few changes of clothes. She knew Gemma could wear some of her things . . . and she'd been nice and grabbed Tig a new pair of fresh jeans and clean shirts. She may be pissed at him but she couldn't seem to stop herself from packing the clean change of clothes . . . or grabbing a copy of the picture of the two of them with the twins to put in his Cut. Probably because the little voice in the back of her head kept whispering that the thoughtfulness of her actions would cause the guilt of his to eat away at him once he pulled his head out of his ass.

She shook her head before grabbing her blonde curls and pulling them into a knot at the base of her skull while Tara knocked on the door. The other doctor seemed to fidget more than normal as they waited . . . and from the look on her godmother's face when she pulled the massive oak door back and spotted both of them, she was justified in her nervousness.

The relief that had blossomed across Gemma's face withered and faded away into a cold rage as she noticed Tara wasn't alone. And Ripley suddenly understood what an extreme risk the other doctor had taken to tell her about this . . . much less bring her along. Oh this just kept getting better and fucking better . . . This was worse than the fucking rape . . . She sighed, hating the damn secrets Gemma and Jax were always trying to keep from her. At least Clay understood that she could handle almost anything they threw at her . . . even if she did need time to process it occasionally.

"Well fuck, Doc. Can you not ever deal with anything alone? Or do you just like putting her in fucked up situations she shouldn't have to deal with?"

Tara blanched, realizing she'd probably just pulled Gemma's full wrath down on her own shoulders before trying to explain.

"If it were Jax I would want to know regardless of how it happened . . . "

Finally, Gemma rolled her eyes and grumbled, stepping back as she motioned them inside while she turned to go back deeper into the house. Ripley reached out, squeezing Tara's shoulder supportively before nodding for her to go in first. As she stepped inside, she took one last look around the yard and the silent street before shutting and locking the door. She looked over at Tara, following Gemma's directions as the First Lady of SAMCRO pointed towards the room that she hoped held her Old Man. She smirked, shaking her head as Gemma turned and looked at her with sympathetic eyes. Despite Gem's obvious frustration with the girl, the awkward little doctor had just earned herself a free pass as far as Ripley was concerned . . . for now at least.

* * *

Gemma stopped at the mouth of the hallway, nodding to Tara to go on ahead. She knew that she shouldn't be too pissed with the girl but she really didn't need to pull Ripley into this. Clay had told her in their limited phone conversations that Stahl was sniffing around their goddaughter. And she hadn't wanted the girl to realize that Tig had screwed around her. Run or not, she knew from personal experience that despite the standing Club law, it hurt like hell to know that your Old Man had sampled someone else's pussy. Ripley hadn't ever had to deal with that . . . Ed had loved Millie far too much to ever accept anything other than an on-the-road blow job and she knew that both of her exes in Long Beach had been head-over-heels about her.

And now the one person she knew Ripley had ever surrendered this much of herself to had done the worst thing he possibly could . . . Just like a damn man to fuck something up that was so fucking simple.

She sighed, pulling Ripley into a one armed hug as the girl stepped closer and laid her head on her shoulder. Gemma looked down, pulling the girl closer as she heard Tara speak to Tig. And Ripley shake her head as they both heard the light chatter of conversation start down the hall. God she just wished she could shield her from some of this . . .

Ripley looked up at her and Gemma brushed her now longer bangs out of her eyes as she looked her over. Her face was thinner, her cheekbones more pronounced and the freckles shining against her pale skin . . . . She seemed tired. Very, very tired.

"You okay, Baby Girl? You look like shit . . ."

Ripley smiled at her and Gemma felt her won lips spread into a smirk on their own at her response.

"I guess that's because I feel like shit. Didn't think it was that obvious though . . . "

Gemma shrugged, turning for them to go towards the kitchen. She knew that the others probably hadn't noticed how down the girl was but she could see the weariness in the set of her shoulders and the way she moved. Her baby wasn't fairing well in all of this . . . . and the idiot bleeding in the bedroom down the hall wasn't helping matters. At all. She poured a cup of coffee and pushed into Ripley's hands, filling her own while the girl perched herself on the countertop.

"Okay, Baby Girl. Spill. I know something else is going on here and you are going to tell me. We've got a while until Doctor Goody-Two-Shoes patches up your dense Old Man."

Ripley smirked, shaking her head as she took a sip of the lukewarm coffee and tried not to sputter. Jesus . . . had Ignatius come and made the coffee or something? She blinked, taking a smaller sip of the bitterly strong brew before answering Gemma.

"I had to settle Luanne's estate. And everyone needs to get ready because the Delaneys decided to name me executor. I had to settle that and deal with London's stuff . . . . Which, by the way, made me the proud owner of an LA penthouse and a rather nice apartment in Long Beach that I have to clean up . . . I rented out the penthouse but I still have to decide what to do with the other. Not to mention the damn cars . . . And then there's the shit with Stahl. And Hale . . . ."

She shook her head, trying to keep from tearing up and could see Gemma fighting the same impulse. They'd both known David for years and despite the shit he'd pulled, seeing him dead really was a waste. At least Gemma understood that . . . speaking of which . . . She turned to Gemma, seeing her way to get the others off of her back for good.

"And then the guys have decided that I need twenty-four hour supervision. Between Opie, Chibs and fucking Happy I am about to goddamn scream. First they give me grief about Hale dropping by house to make peace-and rat on me to Tig like I damn planned the shit or something- and get me yelled at. Then again when my ex sent this very nice arrangement to Luanne's service and offered to handle all of the stuff with London's apartment. You know, cleaning it out and boxing up what he thought I would like to keep so I wouldn't have to . . . which is really fucking decent considering that the others have just kind of left me alone with it as much as they could. I know they don't know how to deal with it so I get it but it was nice to hear that the friends I have in Long Beach were trying to step up. And then Happy fucks it up by taking my damn cell phone away. Which gets me yelled at again by Tig for not answering his damn phone calls."

She growled, shaking her head as she took a large gulp of the coffee and forced herself to swallow as Gemma looked at her, shoulders shaking as she tried to keep her laughter in check. She rolled her eyes, happy that she at least could take Gemma's mind off of some of the shit around them . . . . Which-for her-was a lot . . . . even without her knowing about Abel's abduction. She rolled her eyes but continued to gripe as Gemma nodded, smiling evilly at her. Bitch.

"Oh? So that's funny, Gemma? Seriously? I don't think so. Especially when Chibs and the others told Tig that I was too upset over David's death. And you know the most fucked thing about all of it? Kozik, fucking Kozik is the one who's been the best about watching out for me without smothering me to death! And he hates Tig!"

Ripley was proud of Gemma as she held the outburst of laughter for a full two seconds before she was doubled over, clutching her sides as she laughed her ass off at her misfortune. She even gave her about three minutes of gut wrenching guffaws before she finally snapped into the 'goddaughter mode' and whined pitifully at her. Which just made her laugh even fucking harder.

"Oh c'mon Aunt Gemma! Its not that damn funny!"

* * *

Gemma wiped her eyes, shaking her head as she looked over Ripley. No wonder she looked so damn weary. The Sons of Anarchy had taken to babysitting her full time for their Brother . . . and she hated it. She smiled, reaching out and ruffling the girl's hair and loving the good natured groan that accompanied the gesture. She'd missed this . . . she missed her family. She thought of Jax, Clay and Abel and her heart twanged, aching a bit in her chest but she shook it off. They would figure something out and she could go home . . . . But the sooner the better.

She went to leave the kitchen to check on her Dad but stopped, turning back to glance at Ripley. She knew she didn't need to know this-despite her place in both the Club and Ripley's life it wasn't really her business- but she had to know what to expect when she got home. And how to handle the fallout if the worst should happen.

"So . . . what are you going to do about Tigger? I mean, you told him this was a Run but I understand if you don't want to handle this kind of shit . . . . Hell, I broke the nose of Clay's last little fling."

Ripley shrugged, all emotion falling from her face as she hung her head and stared into her coffee cup. Like the answers to all of their problems were in the bottom of that cup. She looked so much smaller, bundled up in her sweater and hoodie over the dark blue dress with her wild ponytail falling over her shoulder, swinging her cowboy boot clad feet as she held the ugly green monster of a cup in both hands. So much more like the friendly-but-awkward kid that had left to go to school and less like the strong, almost cold woman that had returned in her place.

But then she looked up and Gemma saw the ice settle in those pretty sea glass green eyes . . . . and knew that she would keep to the words passing through her plump lips. God in heaven help Tigger . . .

"We had a deal, Gemma. And this is a Run . . . but I'm here now. And if he doesn't at least seem remorseful then I will stick to that deal. And he damn well better believe that . . ."

Gemma smirked, going towards the gardens where she'd settled her Dad to try and gather himself. She turned, nodding to the front door.

"Go ahead and pull that car into the garage. No need for anyone to think that we're running a Car lot now . . ."

Ripley nodded, draining her coffee and hopping off the counter moving with a slight swagger to her stride as she twirled her keys on her index finger. Now that was more the girl she'd raised . . .

* * *

Tara worked quickly, thankful that the bullet had passed through the muscle cleanly. There appeared to be hardly any severe damage . . . making this one of the easier bullet wounds she'd ever had to treat. If Tig did what she told him and refrained from causing any more damage to the tendons and ligaments then he should recover fairly quickly. But then again . . . . this was a Son she was talking about. And not just any Son but the Sgt At Arms himself. Mr. Batshit Crazy killer in the flesh. He would probably fuck it back up in less than a day.

He hissed as she pulled the last stitch through his skin and she couldn't help but grin. She tugged harder, making him come up off of the bed and curse under his breath as she dug her hand into the middle of his back. He turned, glaring at her as she looked down at him, brow raised.

"Jesus, Doc. What the hell was that for?"

She gave him a deadpan look before she snipped the thread and wiped the now closed wound down with another iodine prep wipe. No need in letting him set up an infection that Ripley would have to tend to . . .

"For screwing around on my friend. Who is your Old Lady by the way . . . you know in case you forgot . . ."

Tig looked back at her harshly for a few moments before shrugging with his good shoulder and turning to look out the window again. She figured she'd been dismissed so his soften soft spoken words were actually a shock to her.

"Yeah well, you be sure to remind her of that fucking fact. I wasn't eh one ignoring phone calls in favor of playing with deputies and other coroners."

Tara looked at him like he was crazy before digging into his shoulder with her latex covered finger hard. Normally she would never do this but the mood swings were actually coming in handy for her today. For once . . .

"She has been about to go crazy with all of this shit. And having all of these people watching her isn't helping. And her ex called to offer to clean out London's place so she wouldn't have to. The guy was just being nice . . . he knows she's with someone and is a decent enough person to not try and fuck that up for her . . . The guys didn't know what they were talking about."

Tig hissed, glaring at her again before he finally snapped.

"Okay, okay I fucking get it! I was misinformed . . . . still doesn't excuse her whole non-com bullshit earlier. Bitch hung up on me . . . "

Tara rolled her eyes, moving to wrap his shoulder. Why were all of the men connected to this MC so emotionally inept that it was fucking ridiculous? They couldn't handle not being the center of their 'women's' attention . . . but would deny that fact tooth and nail. Even Clay had proved he didn't handle the emotional backlash of Gemma's attack as well as they'd hoped he would when he put a cinderblock through her window. And to think they called women the emotional ones . . . .

"Gee, if you talked to her like that then I wonder why? Who wouldn't just love to hear the person they're missing so badly berate them and practically accuse them of something so insane its ridiculous?"

* * *

Tig glanced back at the Doc, more than a little shocked at the lip. She normally cowered behind Jax or Gemma . . . opting to not speak to him. With the exception of patching him up before, this was probably the longest he'd ever actually talked to the woman. The awkward little cunt actually had some backbone beneath all of that self righteous indignation she wore like a fucking shroud.

He shrugged, trying not to wince as the new stitches pulled. He knew she was probably right . . . but it still hurt his pride that he'd been gone to begin with. He'd been so damned caught up in all of this shit that he'd started to lose his bearings . . . Christ on a cracker. He'd fucked this up really fucking well. He hadn't had a damn Old Lady a fucking month and he'd probably already run her off. Just fucking great.

He glanced back at Tara, catching her eye as he nodded to her.

"Thanks Doc . . . for patching me up. You know where Gem took off to?"

Tara went to speak as Gemma walked into the room, looking more than slightly hassled. Tig and the doc shared a look as Gemma stepped further into the room, hand over her heart as she looked between the two of them.

"Have either of you seen Daddy? I can't find him in the house or out in the gardens."

Tara shook her head as Tig groaned, standing up and pulling his shirt on carefully. This shit just kept getting better and better . . .

"I thought I heard a car twenty minutes ago . . . just thought it was someone turning around, you know? His car out there?"

Gemma shook her head, rubbing her chest and Tig knew that that wasn't a good sign at all. She didn't need this right now. Hell, none of them did from the way the doc was acting.

"Just relax, Mama. I'll go look for him . . ."

Tara stepped closer, nodding as she reached out and laid a hand on the Matriarch's shoulder comfortingly. Tig was glad to hear the words come from her lips, because it meant that he wasn't going to have to tear this town apart by himself . . . .

"I can to. You just stay here and try to not go crazy . . ."

* * *

Ripley followed Gemma down the steps into the basement, waiting for Tara to come back. She'd called, saying she wasn't having any luck in finding Nate while Ripley had gone through the contact lists beside the phones. No one had seen the senile pastor but they had all agreed to keep an eye out for him. Tara had suggested-between random observations about the town and the people in it- that they needed to find someone who knew his patterns.

She'd relayed the information to Gem and had been pretty blown away by the restrained and angry woman tied to the ancient wheelchair just beyond the steps. The duct tape around her wrists and ankles was done tightly, digging into her flesh as they kept her in place. But the seeping wounds were definitely her own fault from the way she was continuously struggling against her bonds.

Ripley rolled her eyes. Stupid bitch should know that fighting against the tape would only hurt her . . . . Footfalls on the steps made both women turn to see Tara coming down the steps. And Ripley did a mental countdown before the overly sympathetic physician's bleeding heart caused her to open her mouth. She smirked as Gemma and Tara argued. It had only taken five seconds this time . . .

"I can't believe you have her tied up like this Gemma. This is inhumane."

Gemma shrugged, going towards the glaring woman as she spoke. And despite the nonchalant tone she used, Ripley knew that shit like this was harder for Gemma than the others suspected. She would do whatever to protect her family but she wasn't always as gung-ho about the gruesome details as people thought. Despite all of her shortcomings and oddities, Gemma was still a decent person . . . but the protective maternal instincts she'd developed towards most of the Sons and the Club overrode her misgivings about the actions she occasionally had to take.

"Greedy little bitch was going to turn me over for money, Doc. So I'm not really going to loose any sleep over this . . . "

The woman glared up at her and Ripley stepped in closer, making sure to keep herself with Gemma at all costs. She doubted the little slut would get free but if she did, she would be ready to put her down in half a heartbeat. She already wanted to tear the bitch apart for jumping into bed with her Old Man . . . hearing that she'd tried to roll on Gemma wasn't really earning her any friends.

Gemma reached out, pulling the duct tape off her face harshly before grabbing the girl's chin and forcing her to look at her.

"Look sweetheart, you're going to answer some questions for us . . . or-"

The girl growled, spitting in Gemma's face as Tara gasped. Ripley didn't even think, just reacted. Her ringed hand back-handed the woman hard enough to snap her head to the side. Gemma and Tara both jumped at the resulting sound . . . but she didn't care. She just stepped around Gemma and grabbed the girl's greasy dirty hair and twisted her face back to them. Making sure it was an extremely painful angle for the treacherous little cunt. She waited as the girl sobbed, breathing heavily and quickly before she finally tsked at her.

She saw Tara take a tentative step back as Gemma watched the scene with interest and worry. But she wasn't going to let that stop her. They needed to find Nate before he got hurt . . . or brought the cops down on their necks. She bent; almost touching her face to the other woman's and spoke very evenly and very precisely. And she knew Tara recognized the cold tone from their own argument before.

"Now that wasn't very polite, was it? I understand you feel a bit . . . confined at the moment but let's reach an understanding here. You are all alone here. And tied to a chair because you proved that you can't be trusted . . . But you are going to help us. Tell us what we want to know . . ."

She pulled the girl's hair tighter, angling her chin up and bringing her face even closer to the other woman's as she cried out. Tara went to step closer but stopped as the girl started speaking.

"Why would I help you? You're here with the psycho bitch who tied me up . . ."

* * *

Gemma knew the moment that the dark little grin twisted Ripley's pouty lips and the caregiver's breathe hitched that she would get the information they needed. She just hoped that she didn't loose her goddaughter in the process. Something about the look on her face unsettled her . . . made something buried deep and dark in her soul twist and grate against her chest. Ripley looked far too at ease doling out the threat laden words and using the captivity of the other woman to her advantage. And she suddenly knew what the people who had to watch Tig and Happy work felt like . . . Dear God. When had this happened and why hadn't she noticed?

Had Clay noticed? Jax? Is that why her son had fought the idea of Tig and Ripley together so hard? Ripley's words broke her out of her thoughts and Gemma felt a little bit of fear creep into her own ribcage. She suddenly hoped the woman would talk and quickly. Because whatever she deserved for the shit she'd been pulling would pale in comparison to what Ripley did to her if she didn't cooperate.

"Because you are all alone here. No friends. No family, right? And no one to miss you if you don't do as I say . . . You cooperate, there's no reason you shouldn't go free. Back to wherever you want and forget all about being tied up in this dingy little shithole."

The girl looked at her, obviously considering the offer before she spoke. Voice still full of bravado as she tried to act tough.

"Fuck . . . and if I don't?"

Ripley shrugged, her grin turning darker as she looked down at her.

"Well then there really isn't anybody to care if I chop you into tiny pieces and scatter you across three states is there?"

The girl paled, her dirt streaked face going almost ashen before the rage bubbled back into her eyes. She moved, acting like she was going to spit on Ripley before the pathologist's hand caught her throat hard. She squeezed, applying just enough pressure right beneath the hinge of her jaws to make the woman cry out and try to get away. The bend of her thumb and index finger holding tightly against the windpipe as she looked down at the now gasping woman coldly.

As the woman tried to struggle, she used her other hand and-quickly-snapped the woman's index finger harshly to the side. The resounding crack-the wet sound of jagged bone grinding and moving over bone- told both of the other women that she'd broken the extremity. With one fucking move. Jesus Christ where the fuck had she learned to do that?

* * *

As the caregiver screamed and wailed, trying to get as far from her as her restraints would let her Ripley kept her face neutral. She very slowly moved, getting the middle finger in the same hold as she had the previous one. The break to the secondary knuckle would be painful but nowhere near as horrific-or damaging-as if she'd snapped the actual bone instead of hyper extending the joint . . . though from the swelling and color change already beginning to happen she might have applied a bit too much pressure and done just that. Oh well . . . the little bitch wouldn't go into shock from a broken finger . . .

She looked down at her, brow raised as the woman pleaded through her tears and snot.

"Please, Oh please Dear God don't do this! Please! I'll tell you anything you want to know . . . I swear . . . ."

Ripley nodded, letting go of the girl's hand and kneeling. Making sure to keep her eyes on nothing but the other as she waited.

"Good . . . now where would Nate go if he was upset?"


	39. Chapter 39

_Wow! Thanks so much for the support, the reviews . . . for everything. I told you all before that I wasn't going to be updating as frequently . . . and that's going to stand true for a while. But I am not abandoning this story. I'm just trying to make sure I don't fuck it up royally. But here's the next chapter . . . that has actually been done for a few weeks. And I'm just now getting to post it . . . sorry. But being in and out of the hospital with my Dad has been a strain. Enjoy . . . and no one plot my death just yet . . ._

_

* * *

_

Tara watched Gemma hug Nate as he walked back in through the front door, refusing to look at Ripley as she swung her now bare feet from her perch on the kitchen counter. The girl was keeping a lazy eye on the reunion as well as she sipped the cup of coffee she'd brewed-tossing the other and swearing it was going to kill them all. Tara knew that what had happened downstairs had rocked her and Gemma . . . . but Ripley seemed fine. Like she hadn't just knocked around the woman and broken her finger without any real effort.

She sighed, shaking her head as she listened for Tig to pull back up. She didn't know if he was even aware that Ripley was here-she'd pulled the Camaro into the garage when they'd set out and Tara hadn't heard the shouting Gemma was sure would happen when he found her- but she was anxious about the SAA's impending arrival. Ripley had come upstairs after she'd gotten every detail she needed from the girl, nodding to both of them as she went. And had pretty much been on the counter since her coffee had finished brewing.

Tara turned, watching as Gemma led Nate down the hallway to try and get him settled. God would this day ever be over? She was just ready for the sun to set and this horrible twenty-four hours to be completed. Because there was no way that tomorrow could possibly be any worse than this . . .

She glanced at Ripley, nodding as she called out to Gemma.

"I'm going to check on our guest . . . see about that . . . accident and try to make sure she'd okay."

* * *

Gemma nodded and ushered Nate past the den and kitchen as he started to ask questions about the caregiver. She sighed, rolling her eyes before patting his back and pushing him towards his bedroom. Hopefully he was tired enough to sleep for the rest of the night without anymore incidents. Because she really didn't want to watch her goddaughter break another one of the Guatemalan whore's fingers. Gemma knew that most of that had been her anger at everything happening surfacing but she couldn't dismiss it. She'd crossed a line that Gemma herself had crossed years ago . . . and she didn't seem to have the same issues that she herself had encountered. She wasn't a weeping mess or in shock. She was sitting on the kitchen counter drinking coffee like it was any other day . . .

She shook her head before kissing her Dad goodnight and shutting the door behind him as he insisted he could take care of himself. He'd gotten rid of the gun after all . . . She smiled, walking back down the hall to see Ripley heading towards the bathroom, keys and duffle bag in hand. This didn't look right . . . . She nodded to the keys, brow raised as the girl smirked.

"thinking about driving the tub out of here? Because the keys to that Camaro won't work on the yellow fiberglass monstrosity in the guest bedroom."

Ripley laughed, reaching up to shake her hair loose as she rolled her eyes. Which made Gemma's heart lighten.

"Damn . . . . I knew I should've brought the Chevelle. Guess I'll have to make due with washing my face and brushing my teeth, huh?"

Gemma nodded, smirk fading as she reached out and brushed the blonde curls out of Ripley's face, tilting her chin up so she could look in her eyes. Still the same pretty odd colored eyes that shown and glimmered with mischief and intelligence. Not the cold, dead eyes that had looked down at the woman in agony in indifference not even an hour before. She almost wondered if she'd imagined it . . .

But the small smudge of dirt on Ripley's cheek said differently.

"You okay, Baby girl? Takes a hard heart to do that and be okay with it . . . even Tigger fights with it some days. I just want you to know that breaking down because of it is normal . . . after the reality sets in . . . "

Ripley nodded, shrugging as her shoulders sagged just a bit. But she didn't seem too bothered by it. If anything she seemed better than she had when she'd walked through the damn door . . .

"I'm fine, Aunt Gemma. And I know what Tig deals with . . . better than most. But Pops taught me what to do if I was ever faced with that . . . to do what needed to be done to protect people. That outweighs any of the negativity of actually hurting someone . . . Besides . . . I kind of work with dead bodies all day every day and I have Tig's Crow. I'm about as far from normal as it comes . . . But thanks."

Gemma nodded, pulling her into a tight hug. She knew that Ripley was right. That everything she'd face in her tender almost-thirty years had groomed her to face this almost flawlessly . . . but she still wanted her to know it was okay to be upset. If she was. And if she wasn't, fuck it. She still loved her and that's all that mattered. She'd been covering up shit for SAMCRO for years . . . she could deal with this too if need be . . .

She pushed Ripley towards the bathroom, shaking her head.

"You're normal enough for me, Brat. And you're welcome. Now go take a damn bath . . . . you stink."

Ripley rolled her eyes, going into the bathroom and Gemma started towards the kitchen.

* * *

Tara turned her back after freeing the caregiver's hand, looking for something to put on the friction burns and seeping sores she'd caused by struggling . . . . and something to set and splint that finger with. No matter what, no one deserved to be treated like this. She still couldn't believe Ripley had done this . . .

She shook her head, turning to speak only to become aware of nothing but blind searing pain radiating through her skull. She dropped, feeling the darkness envelope her and couldn't fight the fear that something was going to hurt them . . . She couldn't let anything hurt them. And that was the last thought to cross her mind as the world faded into a cluster fuck of pain and pitch. What had she done?

* * *

Gemma walked into the kitchen, not prepared for the sight before her. The caregiver was not only free but here in the kitchen and armed. She kept trying to move towards the door and Gemma knew that she couldn't let that happen. She moved, having to step back quickly as the blade the woman was brandishing barely missed her skin. Goddamn she hated this shit . . . why could nothing ever just go right for once?

The woman moved and Gemma found herself between her and the door, one foot on carpet and the other on linoleum as the aggravated woman tried to maneuver her way out and to the front door. God where was the cavalry when she needed one?

"You're going to move, you fucking bitch and I'm going out that door. Or I will cut every fucking one of you bitches to pieces. Starting with that ice cunt who broke my fucking finger."

Gemma glared but felt hope flutter to life as she saw Tara move slowly through the room behind their assailant, grabbing the heavy sculpture of the cupped golden hands from the table as she went. If she could keep her attention on her, then maybe Tara could get a knock in and they could toss the bitch back in the basement. They were all moving closer to the door and Gemma hoped Tara moved quick. Or she was going to have a major problem.

"What? Pissed she fucked you up? Newsflash. You slept with her Old Man . . . you signed your death certificate the second his dick touched your pussy. End of discussion . . . Fact she didn't kill you for that shows she's a lot nicer than me."

Tara moved, lunging and knocking the woman in the back of the head hard with the piece of art; causing the woman to stagger and almost fall before she turned and dove at Tara. The doctor moved but not quickly enough as the edge of the knife sliced through her shirt and left and angry, bleeding wound in its wake. Gemma cursed, eyes on the bleeding girl and moved without really thinking. If she could move without getting her attention then she might be able to get the knife away . . .

As the caregiver turned, blade raised and ready to strike home, Gemma never saw anything but the gleaming tip of the knife poised to attack. She'd never even noticed Ripley step slowly into the kitchen . . . or draw the large carving blade from the wooden holder and advance slowly towards the woman lunged at Tara. She didn't register the hitched breathe as Tara cried out, falling back and away from the blade . . . All she saw was her own impending demise at the hands of a woman she should've killed the second she showed she'd turn on them.

So seeing another gleaming flash of metal slash in from the side, burying itself in her would-be-assassin's chest-right beneath her left breast and angled up-had her saying her prayers . . . until she realized that the blade hadn't struck her. She was alive . . . and Ripley had just effectively neutralized their threat . . . And given them a huge mess to clean up.

* * *

Ripley pushed the blade deeper, the sickening wet slurp as the woman tried to take in a breath and blood flooded her lungs music to her ears. The woman kept her blade raised, moved like she was going to try and attack again and Ripley didn't hesitate. With one hard measured hit, she crushed the heel of her hand into the woman's nose and thrust upward; continuing even as she felt the cartilage and bone shatter beneath her hand. She used the momentum of the attack to turn them, angling the woman to fall back onto the linoleum. She watched her sink, dark blood seeping from her nasal cavity and onto the floor. But it wasn't anything she couldn't handle . . . some bleach and ammonia-to destroy the blood and DNA evidence and prevent staining- coupled with some hard scrubbing and meticulous attention to detail and no one would ever be able to tell someone had been killed here.

She'd left the knife in the side wound so no arterial spray, no blood anywhere other than the floor . . . and if they moved quickly enough then there wouldn't be. She turned, looking to Gemma with worried eyes as she surveyed what would need to be done with Tara. The wound wasn't deep and probably wouldn't need stitches. Could easily be explained if they were questioned . . . the knives could be cleaned and put back. And they would deal with the body . . . because no body and only circumstantial trace evidence weren't enough to make any prosecutor take on a case.

Besides, no one knew Gemma was here . . . and if Nate's illegal caregiver up and disappeared after he was institutionalized then no one would be the wiser . . .

Gemma snapped out of her shock and nodded to Ripley, glaring at Tara as she started to freak out. The doctor was already paler than she had been and looked about ready to be sick. She darted from the floor to the sink, puking down the drain as Ripley looked over the wall behind her. Gemma knew Ripley would fix this . . . and if she couldn't then Tig would. Between the two of them, they had a megawealth of perverse and macabre knowledge on the dead to work with.

"Oh dear God . . . she's dead. You killed her . . . Oh my God Ripley you killed her!"

Gemma moved, going towards the bathroom as she leveled a dark look on their weakest link. She needed to get something for her pounding head and then she would help Ripley move the corpse to the basement. The old hospital bed would work . . . if they draped the shower curtain liner over it and wrapped the body so it didn't leak.

"Bitch deserved it, Tara. C'mon we got get the body out of the entranceway . . . Ripley? You know how to deal with this?"

Ripley nodded, stepping out of her boots and carefully around the slowly ebbing puddle of blood streaming from the woman's fractured face to follow her. They moved quickly, Gemma dry swallowing a vicodan before helping her free the clear vinyl liner of the shower hooks and go to the basement, draping it over the ancient bed. Gemma looked to Ripley before reaching out and pulling her to her, pressing her forehead against her temple.

"Thank you, Baby Girl . . . you saved us. And we will fix this, I swear it."

Ripley nodded, leaning into the contact completely for a few seconds before going to go back upstairs. She glanced back over her shoulder, not meeting her eyes as she spoke.

"I'll get her . . . Tara's hurt and your heart won't handle this stress very well forever . . ."

Gemma rolled her eyes, standing and slinging her arm over shoulders as they trudged back up the steps and into the mess they'd made. As they got to the door back into the main floor, Ripley stopped and gave Gemma a deadpan look.

"Next time, kill the little bitch first so I don't have to . . . living with all of those men to do your dirty work has you almost ruined."

Gemma rolled her eyes, swatting Ripley as she pushed her back into the kitchen.

"Sure, smart ass. Whatever you say . . ."

Ripley moved, arranging the body to be easier to lift as Tara worked with her, still pale and obviously sick. But she refused to not help get the corpse downstairs. She went to lift, Tara working with her to get the body off of the floor and at a manageable angle. The door opening caused all three of them to turn, Gemma and Tara both jumping as she pulled the knife-still embedded in the dead bitch's side- free of the corpse and flipped it, sharp edge out should she need to use it. She already had to get rid of one body . . . what was two?

* * *

Tig walked back into the house, tired and pissed that he still hadn't been able to get in touch with Ripley or find Nate . . . only to feel his heart stop when he actually saw what was waiting on him. Gemma and Tara were both looking at him like scared little rabbits . . . but the real shock was standing just in the kitchen; brandishing a knife covered in blood-over the dead body of Anna-was Ripley. Wearing a damn dark dress and showing her fucking Crow.

Tig snapped. He stormed into the house, glaring at all of them as he looked down at the now dead caregiver. He looks up, glaring at Gemma.

"What the hell happened here Gemma? I leave to go look for Nate and come back to a dead caregiver cunt? Seriously? And what the hell is she doing here?"

Gemma went to speak as Ripley rolled her eyes and flipped the blade, slinging it down and into the shoulder bone of the dead woman as she stormed downstairs without a backward glance. Tig turned, looking to Tara and Gemma before rolling his eyes and groaning, picking up the dead body awkwardly and making his way down after his Old Lady. Christ what a fucking mess they were in . . .

He looked around, noticing the liner on the bed and had to admit it was smart with the blood he'd seen upstairs. At least it seemed isolated to the damn kitchen floor and not the fucking carpet. Because he really didn't want to scrub the floors with the bullet wound in his shoulder. He sighed, dropping the body on the bed and arranging it before turning to see Ripley at the work bench in the corner, facing away from him as she shed her hoodie and sweater . . . revealing the white wife beater beneath the fitted dress . . . He crossed to her, twirling her to face him and almost groaned aloud.

Her hair was down and wild, her face clean of the blood save a tiny arc right beneath her left eye . . . And her lips seemed fuller than they had the last time he'd seen her. As he looked her over, he realized something was different. Despite looking wild and weary, she seemed to be glowing . . . . he shook himself, stepping closer as he pushed her back up against the countertop. She glared up at him and he had to remember how to breathe for a second. Her here-wild and wired from the adrenaline he could see pulsing through her veins- and looking mean should terrify him but damnation if he didn't think it was hot . . .

"What the hell was that, Ripley? What happened?"

She shrugged and all thoughts of how hot she was vanished as he grabbed her, pulling her flush into him and glared down at her.

"What the fuck were you thinking? What if it hadn't been me coming through that door? Jesus did you think at all? You're a damn pathologist! A doctor! They wouldn't be as lenient with you as they would someone else! You know what to fucking do to kill someone . . . you see the shit everyday!"

Ripley glared up at him and he felt his blood run ice cold as she stretched up onto her bare tiptoes and mocked him, her lips brushing against his as she whispered.

"What? Pissed I offed your little fuck buddy? So you can kill any man that touches me but I can't kill her? That's not really fair . . . is it, Alex?"

* * *

Tig had no clue how it happened. One minute, they were arguing and threatening one another, taunting as they tried to gain the upper hand . . . and then his mouth was suddenly against hers. Her arms wound around his shoulders as he lifted her-not even caring about the searing pain in his shoulder as he deposited her on the counter top behind them- and pushed her skirt up. He pulled her to the edge of the surface, brushing her panties aside as he kissed his way down her neck as she leaned into his touch; her hands threading through his curls.

His thumb sought her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves harshly as he pushed two fingers into her. He groaned, savoring how tight she was . . . and wet. His other hand came to his pants, pulling the button open and fighting the zipper before her hands left his hair and helped, freeing his painfully hard erection from his jeans and caressing it gently. He groaned, laying his forehead on her collarbone, noticing the tiny droplets of blood mingling with the sweat as he pulled free of her grasp and spread her; sliding into her slowly as she held him.

He moved, thrusting into her hard and she gasped; arching her back as her head lulled back and her hair tumble over her back. He reached out; grabbing her hips and pulling her harder into him as her head fell forward, resting on his shoulder as he moved faster and harder. Tig knew that this would be quick and messy but he couldn't help it. The fucking with Anna had been okay but this is what he wanted-what he had needed since he'd left her in Charming. He felt her tighten around him and knew she was close . . . and pushed her just a bit farther as he ran his tongue up the curve of her neck to her ear.

As she started to come around him, he grinned; knowing that all she needed was one last little push to go careening over the edge . . . and then he could follow her. He nipped her ear lobe, letting it go with a loud wet pop before he whispered to her.

"Goddamn, little girl. You are so fucking hot . . . I missed this so much. She wasn't anything compared to this . . . compared to you. Nothing can . . . my little Old Lady . . . "

She shuddered, head lulling back as she cried out for him. And he had no choice but to follow. He thrust into her a few more times-hard and fast as she tried to strangle his cock-before slumping into her arms as she held him to her. He tried to catch his breathe as she rubbed his shoulders, resting her temple against the crown of his head as they lean on one another. He blinks, looking up to her and catching her mouth as she meets him halfway. He may be fucked in the head but damnation he missed her . . . now he just had to figure out how to clean up their mess so he could fucking keep her.

* * *

_I know its demented . . . but it is the two of them . . ._


	40. READ ME! I'M IMPORTANT!

Hello!

Unfortunately this is an author's note and not a chapter . . . But I needed to let my readers know that updates may be scant for a few months. Since the end of January we've been in and out of the hospital with my father. And while the last few chapters of Coffee and HMWYBS have been drafted and written there with what we're going to be doing with my Dad there might be a lull.

He's been diagnosed with end stage liver disease and we're in the testing process to see if either myself or my sister are viable donors for a live transplant. This doesn't mean I'm abandoning these stories-far from it, they're probably going to be one of the few things keeping me sane. But there might be a few extra days between updates. Or maybe not, so we're just going to wait and see.

And for the people who have read and responded to Summer, I thank you. That's the new 'keep the oldest sane and from killing doctors' dumping ground. But its fun to write . . . and its growing faster than even Coffee or Learning Curve did. But its also the second basis i played with for Gone in 60 Seconds so . . . it's been jumping around in my head for a while. And- if the hospitalist yells at me for smoking again it will probably see more updates than the others . . . Anyway . . .

Thank you all . . .

Chaos


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